#and it takes a significant amount of self control not to be snarky

[fuckyeah-bears]

you know 99% of the time i get nice, totally reasonable, polite, and frequently kind asks on bearotonin. but every now and then i get some asks that just make me wanna reply snarkily so badly lmao

#the weird shit people send me #like unsolicited 'helpful suggestions' about how to run my blog better #or 'concerns' about the way i run it or some of the photos i post #and it takes a significant amount of self control not to be snarky #because i am not allowed to break brand continuity #but like #people really gotta learn that it's not cute or helpful to come into a stranger's inbox and critique/suggest they run their blog differentl #and i get that most of these (admittedly not that many but still frequent enough) asks are probably not meant to be obnoxious #like i'm sure the person who sent them doesn't have bad intentions #and probably just doesn't realize what they're doing is irritating and a basic etiquette no no #but it's still annoying #sometimes people just gotta learn to keep their opinions to themselves #not every opinion should be shared #just being clear 99.9% of the many asks i get are totally fine and nice #but because i get a fuckload of asks the 0.1% of annoying asks i get is substantial enough to get annoying and tiresome #don't mind me im just vague post venting here as a stress relief so i don't reply snarkily on bearotonin #okay im done ranting now #please ignore me lmao #Posts about bearotonin

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: Surviving being bitten and burned alive by the Red Dragon was the easy part. Frederick Chilton has a long road ahead before things will ever be close to normal again. But your fiancé is a fighter, and you’ll be with him the whole way. 

Sequel to A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss

CW: hospitals, surgery, major injury recovery. Sorry for the silly title, this will, in fact, be an angst-fest. 

2,368 words

He seemed fine that first day—as fine as anyone could be after surviving what he had. His skin was red and cracked from being set on fire, and both his lips had been violently torn off—but they had found him in time. He was in the hospital recovering. Talking. You were able to speak with him, and reassure him that you still wanted to marry him, however long his recovery would take. Lips or no lips. You loved him.

You thought that meant he was going to be fine. The Red Dragon didn’t kill him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

His kidney started failing. Dehydration. He needed a massive amount of IV fluids to replace what he had lost and save him, but that volume of fluid had consequences. It made his body swell up to the point that you couldn’t recognize him—to the point that his airway was swollen closed and he couldn’t breathe on his own. And his single, struggling kidney might fail anyway.

Just a day ago he was talking to you, laughing as you teased him, telling you that you didn’t have to stay with him, and crying when you said you would. You had yelled at him for being such an idiot.

When you walked in the next morning, he was gone.

Overnight, he was like a cadaver, lying unconscious with ventilator and feeding tubes stuffed down his throat. Why did you yell at him?

You were so helpless. There was nothing you could do to make any sort of difference, not even encourage him with tender words or a joke. He couldn’t hear you. He was gone. Every snarky, sassy, smug, self-important, dramatic, gossipy remark was gone—silenced—leaving you with a body and no idea when or if he would wake up. All you could do was watch as he swelled, and hope that the fluids did their job saving his life before they killed him. All you could do was be grateful for every breath, every stubborn heartbeat, and pray they didn’t stop.

A doctor told you his chances of waking up would be slim for a healthy person. With ninety percent of his skin destroyed, bacteria could easily enter his bloodstream, and he could rapidly die of sepsis. The complication of his previous organ damage—especially the kidney Abel Gideon removed—made his probability of recovering next to zero.

“You don’t know what he’s lived through,” you seethed. “He did not survive three different serial killers just to die now. So you are not going to treat him like a lost cause, or…” You tried to think of what he would say, “Or I will sue this hospital for malpractice! That is the renowned psychiatrist and bestselling author Dr. Frederick Chilton, and you will not give up on him.”

Blustering didn’t suit you. And haughty threats couldn’t bring his swelling down. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the internal pressure became too much for him to breathe, even with the assistance of a ventilator and oxygen tubes in his nose. They carted him away to the operating room to cut more holes in him.

All you could do was watch.

“It will cause additional scarring,” a very kind nurse with curly hair explained to you as you blinked vacantly in a waiting room, trying not to break down, “but it should allow his chest to expand and save his life.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around your chest. He wouldn’t even notice a few more in the highway map of scars that his body had become. So long as he survived. You were supposed to get married. You just wanted him to wake up.

  ***

Frederick Chilton awoke in a bare and lonely hospital room.

A nurse came in to check on him after a few minutes of blinking groggily and trying to get his bearings through the static fuzz clouding his mind. She explained what had happened, reviewed the medications he was on, showed him the button to press to call for help, and handed him a remote control. No visitors to announce. No one waiting in the lobby all night, haggard with worry, for him to regain consciousness. No flowers crowding the bedside table.

The small television attached to the far wall, which he could barely see or hear, was less than useless, and the morphine drip prevented him from being able to focus enough to read a book. So he lay in bed, alone, in silence save for the tedious beep of the heart monitor.

It was so dull, he was grateful for having been unconscious for the last thirty hours, which was how long it took for the surgeons to get all the organs back inside of him that Abel Gideon took out, determining which ones were viable to go back, and which would go septic and kill him. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Humpty Dumpty, and not all of the pieces could be put together again.

Days passed, and his only visitor was a police officer there on a formality to take his statement.

He would have thought being disemboweled would make a man more popular. Of course it didn’t. This spared him his pride, at the least—he couldn’t tolerate visitors seeing him pale and clammy-skinned, whimpering with pain in a miserable little hospital gown—and for that he was grateful of his churlish nature, which pushed everyone well past arm’s length.

And yet, he wished they would at least try. He wanted people clamoring at his recovery room door so that he could send them away.

He would never be subjected to the indignity of being seen so weak—and yet, what he wouldn’t give to walk in to his office on his first day back and have all of his employees treat him softly, like he was some fragile thing, and not the tyrant they despised. To have them ask if he was all right.

Why didn’t he have more visitors? More flowers? More cards?

He was not well-liked, but he was distinguished. That warranted somebody stopping by with condolences. It was just that there was so little in his bare hospital room to distract him from the pain.

As the anesthetic wore off, a throbbing soreness radiated out from his abdomen, growing sharper with time. It was agonizing. With every breath, the contracting of his diaphragm and the expanding of his lungs and ribs tormented the stitches in his skin and the abused organs inside. He was either pumped full of so much morphine he couldn’t stay awake, or was clear-headed and wishing they would pump him full of more drugs so he could not be.

His mother sent a card, and so did the staff of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Both had flowers on the front, watercolor roses, and flowing script font in gold, and both meant equally little.

Perfunctory.

The one from the hospital had been insisted upon by the administrator, who had forced the staff to sign it. Each message was generic and impersonal, like they’d been taken from a standardized get-well form letter—although a few were kind enough to make him close his eyes and pretend they were genuinely meant for him. “We miss you, and wish you a speedy recovery!” His heart turned to think one of his employees really missed him and looked forward to him returning. He found the name signed under the message. He had no idea who it was, but he was certain he had never spoken to them.

The one from his mother had most likely been picked out by a maid, presented to her to mark her signature, and then mailed by said maid. It served mainly as a reminder that she hadn’t bothered to visit in person.

Both stung more to receive than if he had no cards at all—written proof that the only way anyone cared for him was as a formality.

There was a third card, however. The only one sent by someone who wasn’t socially obligated to.

You.

Unlike the others, it was completely unexpected. Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, or Hannibal Lecter he would have understood, but you were last person he expected to hear from.

It wasn’t even a real card, but printed at home on plain, flimsy printer paper with a cartoon dog wearing a cone-collar that said “Sorry you’re feeling ruff” on the cover. The inside had a short, hand-written message: Glad you didn’t die.

Childish. Cheap. He should have been insulted. The whole thing was obviously intended to convey how little you cared. But he kept the damned thing long after he’d thrown the other two in the trash. He wished you would come visit so he could tell you how tacky you were to your face. Perhaps it was best that you didn’t—he would have wanted to buy himself flowers to fill the room with first, so it wouldn’t seem as if you were the only one who cared, or that your tasteless little gesture was anything of significance to him.

He was Dr. Frederick Chilton. It was important for you to know that he didn’t need you at all.

  ***

Frederick’s eyes moved behind closed lids. The swollen purple lids began to twitch, then slowly creep open. The room was hazy and bright with colors streaking at odd geometric angles away from the lights that produced them.

All he could make out were flowers. Dozens of them, hundreds, surrounding him in a resplendent cloud cloud of white and lavender. Either he fell asleep outside in the garden, or he had died and somehow gotten into heaven.

“No, you’re alive, Frederick,” you said from somewhere close. He must have been whispering to himself out loud. Your voice was wavering with powerful sobs that you shoved down to force it to sound soft and patient, but he could hear the laughter in it, too. “You’ve been out for awhile, but you’re doing really well. You just had a successful surgery. They finished debriding your burns and installing temporary grafts so you don’t go septic. Oh, and they were able to get a skin sample! It’s already in the lab so they can start growing you some of your own new skin.”

“Where…?” he blinked a few times, and tried to move before realizing he couldn’t. His body was heavier than lead and a dull ache like paper being torn pulsed beneath his skin at odd intervals. He went to lick his lips, but they weren’t there. His tongue hit empty air above his teeth, and then nothing until it encountered a gauze bandage and a plastic tube going into his nose.

That brought everything crashing back, and he groaned at reality, missing the previous few moments of anesthetic fog when the Red Dragon was just a dream.

You sat beside his hospital bed, on the side of his good eye, watching over him with a hopeful smile, rambling on about how happy you were that he was awake. There was a blue hospital blanket folded over the arm of the chair, and your hair was a mess—he wondered how long you’d been there. Every inch of surface space that wasn’t needed for medical purposes was covered in roses.

“You bought out Holland’s entire stock of flower exports.”

The way the words scraped sluggishly and humorlessly from his hoarse throat, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, made it sound like a reproach—but you laughed. You always laughed at his jokes. 

“They’re all fake,” you admitted. “Hospital rules—you’re an infection risk.”

He wanted to flash you a charming smile, but he couldn’t. He did not know if his face would ever be able to produce a smile again, or how many agonizing surgeries it would take before it could. You wanted to squeeze his hand and kiss him softly, over and over, but you couldn’t. It would be weeks before you could casually touch his skin without the risk of it ripping off. At least now that he was wrapped head to toe in thick gauze, you could reach out and gently rest your hand on top of his. It stung bitterly, but he didn’t show it—he didn’t want you to take your hand away. The pressure was comforting, and your engagement ring sparkled on your finger. 

“I am… glad to see you. These places can be so dull.” He met your gaze, hoping his one functional eye could shoulder the entire burden of body language in conveying his gratitude. He felt so defeated. Hollowed out. He stared up at the plain white ceiling. His words were often callous; it was physical passion which had brought you together in the first place, and without it, he feared he may begin to push you away like everyone else.

“Frederick,” you smiled, but your eyes looked like they might cry. “I’m glad to see you, too. Really glad. I don’t know who was there looking out for you the last few times you were in the hospital, but I wanted to make sure you know how loved you are this time. I’m going to be here every single day with books, and podcasts, fake flowers, and anything you want that I’m allowed to sneak in, until we can go home together.”

He didn’t want to say something trite like, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He could.

He had before. But he didn’t want to. He never wanted to again. You had wormed so deeply into his heart and given his world color and meaning he had never known, even in his darkest moments. You made the biggest things seem unimportant, and the smallest things monumentally significant. He could never tell you how important you were to him, what it meant to not be alone.

The heart monitor betrayed the warm fluttering in his chest as the slow, steady beeping rapidly increased. You glanced up at the machine with concern, then back down to him, a sly grin spreading across your cheeks. Prideful embarrassment was written clearly all over his face, even with only part of his face left.

You wished more than ever that you could kiss him.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #hannibal #Raúl Esparza #burn recovery #bryan fuller was letting Chilton get away with his burn way too easily tbh #actually so I am by letting him be conscious and also not dead but hey #this is a bit more like it #my writing

[mikkeneko]

oh how the turn tables: Fic recs of Jaskier saving Geralt

I’ve read a lot of good fics in the Witcher fandom -- including a prodigious and excellent amount of Jaskier whump -- but I realized that some of the ones I like best are the ones where the chairs are switched, and Jaskier has to take care of Geralt for a change. Either by easing his way through social trouble, taking care of him after a fight gone bad, or anything else that threatens to bring the Witcher low. It also doubles as an (incomplete) list of my favorite fics and authors in the fandom!

I would of course greatly  appreciate additions to this post (among others I’m certain there was another fic where Geralt took a Cat potion and then had to exit the cave immediately, and Jaskier cared for him while he was blind from it, that I’d love to find again.) Please add away!

Links only at the top, full summaries and excerpts beyond the cut.

An Incomplete Happiness -  BlossomsintheMist, M, 22k

How to Care for your Witcher -  Funkspiel, T, 13k

faith in transience -  unconscious, E, 12k

Ivy on the Hill - chaya, E, 20k

The Witcher Wolf -  im_fairly_witty, T, 10k

a dying curse (you are, as of all your kind, no more than a beast) - mikkeneko, T, 10k

home is nowhere, therefore you - Ark, E, 18k

Meet Death Sitting -  bomberqueen17, M, 46k

An Incomplete Happiness - Geralt is nearly killed while on a hunt and relies on Jaskier to drag him back to the safety and comfort of a town and treat his wounds. Complete.

“You are awfully nonchalant,” Jaskier said, a levity in his voice that sounded forced.

“Without you here, I’d be sleeping under a bush with Roach beside me for warmth,” Geralt said after a moment.  “I’d sleep there for about four days, hoping it didn’t keep raining, until the fever ran its course, and hope I had water and food enough in my pack, because otherwise I’d have to crawl far enough to find fresh water and then collapse there.  It’s happened before.”  It would again.  “And still, I’d live.  If it was worse than that, I’d let Roach find me aid, and hope I lived.”

How to Care for your Witcher - An episodic fic with each chapter focusing on another fix that Geralt gets into, that Jaskier tries to help him with. Ongoing.

Geralt licked his lips – dry and cracked, another side effect of some of his potions, Jaskier had noticed over time. The bard reached for his canteen as smoothly as he could without jarring the other man. He unscrewed the top slowly, quietly, but not entirely, and gently pressed it into Geralt’s hands. The witcher appeared as grateful for the bottle as he was for the fact that Jaskier had left the littlest bit of it left for him to unscrew on his own; the smallest illusion of self-control. Jaskier watched the way he drank from the skin of water and realized with a feeling akin to a stone dropping in his stomach that all this time Geralt had been thirsty and had not been able to see enough to find his own canteen in his pack. He had likely quenched the worst of it while cleaning himself in the river, but he had never asked for help after. Not once. And Jaskier had missed the significance of the few times the Witcher’s hands had subtly fumbled around his saddle, searching for it.

faith in transience - Geralt gets poisoned by a drug that makes him susceptible to suggestion. Fortunately, the one making the suggestions is Jaskier. Complete.

With the effects of the potions rattling his bones and the venom intertwining he can’t fucking think. He has to lie down. Meditate. Focus his energy on regulating the magic and the pain until his metabolism flushes it out. If it goes uncontrolled it could kill him.

“Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me?” The voice on the other side of the landslide is faint and thready with anxiety.

If he sleeps here he would awaken cold, starving, and exhausted, and potentially even more poisoned if these corpses bloat and pop. He would survive. But perhaps it isn’t the most efficient choice.

Perhaps it’s a choice he may have made were the bard not here. Jaskier’s voice buries deep in his gut and tugs at him like it has magical properties of its own. Like the slaughter, it’s instinctual. Go to him.

Ivy on the Hill - Geralt has been doing his best to keep Jaskier at arm’s length, but after Jaskier saves him from death by drowning or  poison or hypothermia after a bad hunt, the two become closer. Complete, with sequels.

Geralt realizes with a bolt of suppressed panic that he can't move. It's not the weight, it's the... it's something in his blood. Weight. The armored arachas was on top of him. It isn't now. This is something soft and warm, something not leaking viscera onto him.

He breathes in again. Human. Male. Sweat and fear. Underneath that, familiar musky tones. Familiar. Another image comes unbidden to his mind, of carrying Jaskier to the healer as he choked from the djinn. Jaskier's on him.

"Are you-" Jaskier lifts his head from Geralt's shoulder. His voice thrums from his chest to Geralt's, only the pendant and Jaskier's stupid chemise between them. It feels uncomfortably intimate. There's a shuffle under blankets and two warm (blessedly warm) fingers press against his throat. "Okay, that... that feels almost fast enough to be normal, which means you're awake, right?"

The Witcher Wolf - Jaskier runs across an injured wolf in a forest and is moved to help it; the wolf joins him on his travels. The wolf is Geralt, of course. Complete, with sequels.

The wolf snarled, probably just because Jaskier’s fingers had reached the matted blood.

“Alright, so here’s my terrible plan.” Jaskier said, ignoring the snarl. Another unconscious habit he’d developed from hanging around Geralt apparently. “I’m going to try and remove this arrow, which is going to hurt terribly, and then I’m going to patch you up. I’d be extremely grateful if you didn’t dismember me in any way while I do, but if you can’t help yourself I suppose that’s fair.”

a dying curse (you are, as of all your kind, no more than a beast) - When Geralt is brought low by a curse that takes his mind, Jaskier cares for him.

Geralt cocked his head to the side, a gesture so perfectly Geralt-like that he was already anticipating the snarky barb that would follow it... and nothing. Geralt said nothing. Not because he couldn't hear Jaskier, or because he had lost his voice, but...

"You can't understand me, can you?" Jaskier said softly. Geralt just stared at him, steady, wordless, empty. "You can't understand... anything."

home is nowhere, therefore you - Geralt is overwhelmed and captured by a faerie court, and Jaskier wins a boon from the queen by playing and singing all night until the sun rises. His boon, of course, is Geralt.

"Your pardon, gracious queen," Jaskier says. By the way he perspires, Geralt can tell that they're both fucked. If Geralt could groan, he'd groan. "I believe the agreement was that I might have the pick of your treasures to carry off, if I could please you with my little musics until dawn."

She narrows her eyes. Fuck. "Don't be a fool, boy. This ring will bring you fame and fortune beyond your wildest dreams."

"Be that—be that as it may," Jaskier says, and squares his shoulders, "I'm afraid I really have my heart quite set on—that." He points, his hand only a little unsteady, and indicates the low wooden footstool upon which Geralt is miserably crouched for the foreseeable future. Gasps from the watching, glittering court of riveted fairies.

Meet Death Sitting - Geralt is attacked by a particularly nasty critter and needs Jaskier first to kill it, then to find shelter for him when he’s brought low by the toxicity of the potions he took to combat it. Complete, with sequels.

“It’s a mornat,” Geralt said, nearly whispering. His eyes looked like a wounded animal’s, distant and desperate. “It gets into a living body and takes it over, kills it, and then animates it after death until it can find a new host." He had to stop to catch his breath. "If I were human it would have taken over by now, but I’m almost out of potions to hold it back. You’ve got to cut it out of me, stab the silver knife through its spine, put it in the iron pot, tie the lid on, and bury it.”

“I,” Jaskier said, staring in horror at the -- the thing , it was deforming Geralt’s torso, and Geralt looked fucking terrible, ribs standing out in a way Jaskier had never seen before. He was dying. “Won’t that kill you?”

“I might survive,” Geralt said, characteristically unconcerned. “The easier option is that you put the silver knife through my spine and then both of you run like hell.”

#the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #gerlion #the weirdboyz #fic recs

[templarhalo]

Templarhalo reviews Birds of Prey. (It’s pretty fantabulous)

HERE BE SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Ok without this movie, I would have not been a Cassandra Cain fan.  I would have not four, yes four ongoing fics with her as the main character.  I would not be emotionally and financially invested in the DC cinematic universe or the comics side of things. 

Which baffles me because this movie is perfect in almost every aspect,...   Except how they treated Cassandra Cain.   Which  is a fucking shame because her actress is perfect, her chemistry and relationship with Harley is perfect, and the idea of Cass growing up as this pickpocket foster kid, taken in by Harley is unconventional, but I fucking love it. 

Here’s a brief summary. After breaking up with the Joker  Harley Quinn has to make her own way as the strong, badass, indepent woman we all know she is, while dealing with the fact that without Mistah J’s  fell reputation as his significant other to shield her, a lot of people want her raped, tortured, killed and left for the crows…  Not necessarily in that order.    

To get these people off her back and save her own skin, from one of them, the infamous Black Mask. Harley agrees to recover the Bertinelli Diamond, a diamond encoded with the info for a source of 30 million dollars, Black Mask needs to fiance his take over of Gotham. Which was pickpocketed from one of his associates by our Lady and savior Cass.   

The problem is, Cass kind of ate it( (I shit you not) and Black Mask’s guys would rather cut it out of her than wait for the poor kid to take a dump   Not to mention Detective tReene Montoya (played by her Gotham Actress, which would have been a nice bit of world building if Gotham was actually in the movie continuity) building a case against Black Mask, with the aid of Black Canary   Plus Huntress is indirectly gunning for him and Harley in her own quest for revenge.   All these plot points converge into  a very satisfying climax and fight scene with a somewhat  emotionally satisfying ending. 

From  a technical standpoint this film is a spectacle.   Gotham in the day is colorful but rundown, with markets, suave evil bad guy clubs, dilapidated Chinese restaurants and abandoned amusement parks.   The fight scenes are AMAZING  with a wonderful tension and energy that makes them incredibly visualising satisfying.  Everything flows, the ladies move with an enthralling  grace that makes them breaking bones, crushing legs,and tearing through people visceral and heartstopping.  (And arousing. Like goddamn Jurnee Smollett-Bell could kill me with her legs and I’d thank her)

The problem, is none of this applies to  Cass, and this is the films major flaw besides how short it is. (One hour and forty five minutes).  If you had problems with how Harley was handled in Suicide Squad, the movie fixes it.  Black Canary gets a short but satisfying emotional arc that feels natural. She goes from a cynical, lethargic woman, content to be Black Masks “Little Bird”; A singer at his club, driver and symbol of his power/dominance over other women until her own conscience kicks in at Harley and Cass’ predicament.  Huntress also has a short but satisfying arc in which she gets her vengeance on the people who murdered her family and clearly finds a new one to fill the hole in her life, in the form of the Birds.  Reene and her portrayal is a love letter to the 80s cop/hard boiled detectives, a pure, simultaneously complicated/uncomplicated woman seeking to do good for Gotham.       

But Cass… Doesn’t feel like Cass and is criminally underutilized except as a walking mcguffin by dint of eating the Mcguffin.   She’s introduced to us a snarky tween, stuck in a cycle of shitty foster homes and a pickpocket to get by.  And that’s it.  T

here are moments where you think she'll get a cool fight scene.  Moments where you think she’ll have an emotional heart to heart with Harley,   moments where you think…she’ll do something besides run from the bad guys and get saved by the Birds of Prey/Her four moms. 

 In the end she drives into the sunset with Harley and Bruce the Hyena, but it doesn’t feel earned, satisfying as the scene is.  There is nothing implying or hinting she’s the daughter of two of the deadliest assassins in the DC universe, nothing about her running away from David Cain, nothing on her learning disabilities/selective mutism  and NOTHING, setting her up to be adopted by Batman and become Batgirl 

And this is a fucking shame, because Ella Jay Basco has a real chemistry with Margert and the rest of the cast.  She’s adorable, funny, snarky and wonderful as Cass. She brings energy and spunk and I would cut off my left hand, to see her act as Cassandra Cain, not this  generic punk kid with the name.

And I feel like this is  a HUGE problem because the movie sets up this Mother/daughter relationship, with Cass being Harley’s motivation to be a better person.  She goes from willing to hand her over to Black Mask to taking the kid under her wing.   Cass is the glue that bands the Birds of Prey together.   These lovely, dangerous, women coming together to keep a little girl safe,  doesn’t feel as emotionally satisfying as it should because Cass isn’t Cass.

While I will praise the movie for Harley’s arc of seeking her own emancipation and agency outside her abusive relationships and life of crime,  I feel like Harley’s arc should have been a question of redemption.    Cassandra’s motivation to become Batgirl was her refusal to kill again.  (Hey WB remember how in Batman Begins Bruce refused to kill a man because “I will not be an executioner.”)  

Here Cass is fine with killing. She chucks a bomb at some goons chasing her and  she kills Black Mask with a grenade in the end.

Yeah… Cass “I refuse to kill because my dad made me kill an innocent man at eight years old and killing is wrong” kills people.  

*head meet desk*

Sucide Squad, set up Harley and the squad, for an unconventional redemption arc, spite motivated it may be, yet Harley despite her line to Cass “You make me want to  be a less terrible person”  isn’t seeking to make amends for what she did as the Joker’s henchman.  (Like being an accomplice to Jason Todd’s murder).   

.Cass pickpots and steals to survive, because she’s a kid with no family passed from foster home to foster home, Harley steals because she can, steal a truck to blow up a chemical plant because she can.  Kills because she can.   (granted she does use an M79 grenade launcher with bean bag shells for one scene but besides that.) 

I like the idea of Harley taking Cass under her wing, its an unconventional but fresh idea, but it doesn’t feel entirely satisfying, and Cass not being Cass, not having an arc beyond “Go along with Harley as her apprentice” really undermines the excellent themes and message the movie is trying to convey.

Now maybe in the Suicide Squad reboot with James Gunn or a future DC film , Cass is going to leave Harley because that life of crime and killing doesn’t suit her and she realizes she’s trying to be something she’s not and I’m just being overly critical, but I still feel like “Harley and Cass seeking redemption and moving past their abusers together”  should have been where this movie left off, and it baffles me that it doesn’t from a narrative perspective.

Anway the overall themes and message of Birds of Prey are represented in Evan Mcregor’s Black Mask, a walking talking example of repressive toxic masculinity and misogyny.   A flamboyant, all but stated to  be a repressed Bi, crime lord seeking to take control of Gotham, Black Mask moves with confidence in his loud suits, and charming quirkiness,   He’s cruel, sadistic and repulsive  His mannerisms ooz terror,and insanity. He moves like a love child between Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix’s take on the Joker, Gaston from Beauty and the Beast and Joffery Baratheon from Game of Thrones.   He’s a control freak, trying to  be a badass. 

 One minute he’s the Godfather, the next he’s a brat.  He views Harley as nothing without the Joker, telling her that she needs him to protect her.   He enjoys asserting his dominance over Harley during her brief capture by having his men beat her while he eats popcorn.  He objectifies Black Canary for her singing voice and beauty..   

Black Mask asserts his power and authority over the underworld by  his control over women.  In one  frightening scene, he believes one of the women at his club is laughing at him for his failure to capture Cass, so he orders her  to stand on a table, then for her boyfriend to rip open her dress with a knife because he finds it ugly.

In summary he represents the patriarchy.  He represents sexist, abusive men.   He’s a representation of social norms and ideals that are repressive and disgusting, and rob women of their agency, and self-worth. He represents the use of violence, not for noble reasons, but as a means to control women and lash out at those that defy him and supposedly wronged him .

Furthering this line of thought are  the costumes. Black Canary’s costumes represent the amount of control, Black Mask has in her life.  When we first see her, Dinah is wearing a long black netted evening gown that accents her legs as she sings “It’s a Man’s Man’s World”. Later she wears  a blue tank top and gold, tightfitting pants clearly meant to draw our gaze to her ass and thighs. When she’s Black Mask’s driver, she’s wearing a Bra/crop top that bares her midriff under a short blue blaze, but when she decides she’s going to defy him, she wears a yellow tank top and jeans with  a gold belt.

Harley’s costumes are as eclectic as she is, with her DIY caution tape shawl, stamped tops and cut up shorts.  Huntress’s outfits are all black leather and punkish athletic wear, utilitarian and elegant in their simplicity while Reene wears  a  “I shave my balls for this” t-shirt reflecting her uncouth, blunt demeanor, as well as button down  dress shirts and slacks for the climactic asskicking montage .  

Cass is a kid,who clearly doesn’t have the funds for super nice clothes. She;s running around in ratty shorts and a worn out hoody with  a red windbreaker, with an orange bandanna askew on her head.  At the end, when she rides off with Harley, she copying Harley’s style.

Speaking of costumes, one thing I appreciate is that instead of the male gaze and sexualisation, we get what I like to call “passive fan service”  What I mean is that instead of tracking shots on Harley’s ass or boob shoots, like in Suicide Squad  the camera just lets these women’s beauty do the talking. 

 Huntress is wearing a sports bra and tactical pants for the climax, but the camera doesn’t linger on her boobs.  A primary example of this is a lot of Padme’s scenes in Episodes II and III of Star Wars.  Lucas knows Natalie Portman is a gorgeous woman and he doesn’t need to remind us by deliberate camera shots.  He lets Natalie herself and Trisha Biggar’s excellent costumes do it for us. 

Also one thing I really… really liked was how in the big penultimate fight, Harley actually passes Dinah a hair tie so she can get her hair out of the way. So for like a minute, she’s beating the ever loving fuck out of goons with her legs as she ties up her hair.  A very nice case of reality ensures.

In conclusion Birds of Prey is another notch in the belt for the DC cinematic universe, a solid, fun film with  an excellent cast with clear chemistry, hampered by character derailment that undermines its sorely needed themes and message it's trying to convey.   The plot is  fast paced, but doesn't feel rushed even though it’s only a little over an hour long.  It’s uncompromisingly  bold, bloody and hilarious. The lack of a proper post credits scene is somewhat annoying and I'm very disappointed how Cass was handled , but this is by no means a terrible film. 

Overall I give it a 8.9 out of 10.  Highly recommend you go see it. Drag your friends, smuggle in as much candy and drinks as you can.  Buy it when it comes out on DVD.   If you’re a Cass fan, reread the Puckett run or pick up her new graphic novel Shadow of the Batgirl to wash out the bittersweet taste this will give you.  Speaking of Kelley Puckett, he was actually listed in the “Special thanks to…”  in the credits, which i’m sure many will appreciate.

These following posts and thoughts on the film I recommend.

https://dcwomenofcolor.tumblr.com/post/190693985900/how-would-you-fix-bop-cass

https://wits-writing.tumblr.com/post/190718974642/birds-of-prey-movie-review

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YeFJjoQoec

#birds of prey #cassandra cain #templarhalo rambles #Templarhalo reviews books

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

What analysis do you have about Mike? His character shifted a lot in ST3 but IMO it’s not surprising to see him lashing out at authority figures but lashing out at his friends and ignoring them? What do you make of that character progression?

Ah, Mike. To attempt to understand Mike in Season 3, first we need to examine him in Seasons 1 & 2.

In Season 1, Mike is depicted as a nerd, first and foremost. He is a bullying victim, as are his friends. He lacks self-control, often acting on impulse or emotion. He is smart, but he lacks Dustin’s worldliness or Lucas’ sensibility. He is ostensibly the leader of his friends, carrying himself with a level of stubborn authority. He mistrusts authority figures, as they are obstacles to him getting what he wants. Even Hopper, who helps save Will, is mistrusted at first, and then is shown to have hidden El away from him. He himself is the only one he trusts to take charge. The real motivation for Mike, though, lie in his relationships, or at least two in particular.

Season 1 begins Mike’s series-long character arc as being driven by a fear of loss. He is single-minded in this regard. While everyone is upset at Will’s disappearance, Mike takes it the hardest, and he’s the most adamant that they do everything possible to find him, including recruiting the strange girl with scary powers. He is accusatory if he suspects others aren’t as concerned about Will as he is. He stands up to his bully for what seems like the first time because the bully mocks Will’s “death.” He loses his mind and screams at Eleven when he sees what he thinks is Will’s body being dragged out of the quarry. His world fell apart, and he rides home crying and falls into the arms of his mother. He is despondent afterwards, and tenderly looks over pictures drawn by Will. These pictures are all he has left. He snaps at El for fiddling with his radio, bitterly resentful towards her for getting his hopes up. His hopes are renewed, fortunately, when Will’s singing comes through the radio. His raging internal fire, the paladin’s inner light, once nearly quenched, has been relit.

He is steadfast in his loyalty to El at this point, to the end that he defends her against Lucas. He certainly wouldn’t be wrong in doubting her for messing with their compasses, but he trusts her that she was only trying to keep them safe. If he doubts her again, they may never find Will. It’s been some time since I’ve watched Season 1, but I believe it is around this time that his bonding with Eleven kicks up a notch. I feel it is significant, or at least not totally irrelevant, that his feelings for her increase the closer they get to finding Will. I see it as an interaction of him associating El with finding Will, as his is overcome with increasing amounts of hope, relief, and gratitude. He is irrevocably bonded with El now, and his feelings for her become similar to those for Will.

This makes losing her traumatic for him. He obsessively reaches out to her for nearly a year, unable to accept that she is gone. We know she’s out there, but he doesn’t. He turns his attentions to Will, always being the first to notice something wrong. He’s terrified at something happening to Will again, and this time El wouldn’t be around to help. His hypervigilance perfectly fits the character we see in Season 1. He is the epitome of a paladin, keeping a steadfast watch over his cleric. He is still the same emotionally unstable, snarky kid, but is incredibly soft with Will. He is almost reckless in his willingness to stay with Will despite the dangers. If he loses Will, he’s got nothing left. We can see that meeting Will is his fondest memory. I do not think he was playing it up just to try to reach through to Will. 

He is conflicted when El returns. His relief and happiness are so palpable that it’s hard to believe it was simple acting. It’s short lived though, as both Will and El are taken to separate, and highly dangerous, situations. He has no idea if either one will return. These are his two most important people, two people he’s nearly lost already, and he may never see either one again. In the end, they both come back safe and sound, and we’re left with just one question: what is life for Mike now that he has both?

Season 3 answers this for us after a hint during the Snowball scene in Season 2. Mike is obsessed with El, which is something that increasingly seems to hurt Will. In Season 3, Mike seems to take Will for granted. We see him ditch his friends for El. Though we get the sense that he’s gone on many movie “dates” with Will along with Max and Lucas, the dialogue suggests they are relatively rare in comparison to him with El. His inability to balance these relationships costs him both of them early on in the season. I’ve spoken about the contrasts in how he reacts to these before, but, in short, losing Will seems to evoke more panic in him. The paladin has lost his powers due to a violation of his code of honor. He is not quite the same, and must atone. For him this means repairing what he’s broken.

He eventually seems to regain both relationships, to at least some extent, by the end of the season. We see paladin Mike start to make a comeback, as he shows his leadership, bravery, and devotion again. It is all for naught, though, as he loses both El and Will again. This must be a cornerstone of Season 4, and Mike’s character arc in particular. How does Mike cope with this? How does it affect his relationships with El and Will? He shows unease at the idea of Will not wanting/needing Mike in his life, but El is the one he talks to about calls and visits. Mike still can’t balance his feelings for them. Distance is the ultimate test of a relationship, and it’s one I hope isn’t glossed over. These relationships are Mike’s character arc, and we need to be able to see what distance reveals for them.

My personal opinion is that Will truly holds his heart, but he’s unable to reconcile that, so he transfers (unconsciously, of course) those feelings onto El, a more acceptable target. This is why his romance with her is purely physical, without the intimacy and tenderness he shares with Will. He tries to avoid his feeling for Will in Season 3, but they come through when Will gets upset. This is the only time we see Mike mad at Will, and it comes as Will attacks his relationship with El. Even then, though, his anger is very short lived, replaced instead with regret. He simply can’t cope with causing Will pain, and he may not yet realize that he is the one causing most of it. I hope the Duffers allow this to be explored.

Of course, I don’t write the show, so this could all be entirely wrong. I hope I sufficiently explored what you wanted me to touch on here. 

#stranger things #mike wheeler #byeler #mileven #spoilers

[nadziejastar]

It's funny that Organization Rehash was somehow more treacherous than the first one when part of the idea behind Xehanort putting his heart into all of them was to get around that problem

I know! The way the Seekers of Darkness were handled pissed me off so much! Most of them were ruined. The whole point of Xemnas completing Kingdom Hearts was to put Xehanort’s heart and mind into all the original members so that they had no free will. They would literally become another Xehanort. Being a Nobody was not enough to Nort someone. KH3 got around this in the most lazy way possible by saying that they all just joined the True Organization by choice. How lucky for Xehanort, right? This is a relevant post I’ve done about this subject. I’m actually surprised I haven’t seen more people complaining about this egregious plot hole. I brought it up before on a different forum and some fans would just make the dumbest excuses, I swear. “Saïx only had a small piece of Xehanort’s heart in him!” (LOL.)

Ok, so what difference did it even make then? Why did it even matter that he, along with Xigbar, had yellow eyes and pointy ears all along? Weren’t they supposed to be different from the other members? Also, what’s the point of vessels being “raw material” for the X-Blade? Why was Xehanort conducting mind control experiments? Why go to such lengths to show Axel grieving about how much his best friend had changed, if Xehanort’s heart had literally no significant influence on him? God, even Xemnas was treated more respectfully than Saïx was because of this. I actually liked his dialogue at the end about how being human must take incredible strength. It was one of the most memorable lines in the game for me.

How did Xion ever become a Seeker of Darkness? Her switching sides was laughably easy. Roxas and Xion’s dialogue was just so atrocious. I was embarrassed while watching all the scenes with them. Also, if Saïx was supposed to be the one who brought back Roxas and Xion, why are we supposed to take pleasure in his boss fight again? It was treated like Roxas and Xion were getting revenge and it was supposed to be enjoyable to clobber him. Then Roxas and Xion felt pity for him afterwards. And Roxas even acknowledged that he knew Saïx helped to bring him back before their fight. How did he even know that? Well, because his dialogue was written so that the audience could know. Since all of this was shoehorned in at the last minute, Saïx’s redemption happened off-screen. So Roxas had to fill us in on why he was there. It was all so forced, just like the Subject X info dump. 

The game totally wanted to have its cake and eat it, too. They wanted Saïx to betray Xehanort so he could be Lea’s innocent ice cream-loving childhood friend in the epilogue (which was his intended role in the ending all along). But they still wanted to treat him like a villain for Roxas and Xion to clobber. The problem is that both of those things clash very badly. They’re not compatible with each other in the slightest. You can’t do both. His redemption didn’t feel convincing at all because of this. And his scene at the clock tower just made it seem like he had no excuse for his actions from the previous games. Why the hell is he all friendly NOW when he was previously trying to kill Axel? 

I did see a lot of complaints about how all the villains got “redeemed” at the end. They spent the whole game being evil, then they act all nice to Sora after they’re beaten? Why? Well, it was extremely obvious to me that they were supposed to be possessed.

Their actions would have made perfect sense if Xehanort had simply been controlling them the whole time. Then of course they’d be grateful to Sora for releasing them. A big pillar of darkness gets expelled from them after they’re defeated, then they act totally different. Gee, I wonder why? Larxene actually acted confused after she was beaten. She did NOT act like she was in control of herself prior to this.

Furthermore, once she became aware of herself, she was horrified. She looked like she felt violated. Like she had something done to her without her knowledge or consent. I don’t think for a second that Larxene signed up to be a Seeker of Darkness.

I also found it interesting that she spoke as if she weren’t already that geezer’s heart tank. Once Xehanort’s heart is implanted, it’s supposed to gradually take over the person’s heart. Maybe Sora just needed to defeat members like Larxene, Marluxia, and Luxord. They’d go back to normal afterwards because they were not Norted for that long. They had yellow eyes, but their ears weren’t even pointy.

I also think they became vessels by being turned into Nobodies again, so it made sense that they faded away after their battle. They’d be recompleted. But Terra and Isa were supposed to be different. They needed to have the power of waking used on them because their hearts were lost like a decade ago. And neither of them were Norted as Nobodies, either. Saïx shouldn’t have faded away after his battle.

Marluxia also did not act like he was aware of himself beforehand.

He also said his heart was remembering how to feel. I’m sure he was supposed to have a different backstory than what he has now to explain this.

He was all grateful to Sora after being defeated. This makes absolutely NO sense whatsoever unless he was being totally controlled.

Luxord and Sora were acting like old pals after their battle. Luxord never seemed like a bad guy, anyways. He gave Sora a wild card and then said he’d like to play a game with him. I think Marluxia, Larxene, and Luxord were done a tremendous disservice by making it so that they were self-aware for the whole game. But Isa by far came out the worst because of this. He was utterly decimated beyond repair. His whole character revolved around being possessed. That was THE most important thing about him. It was the ONLY thing that could excuse his actions and allow Lea and Isa to go back to being inseparable right after the final battle. Since he was possessed, they didn’t hold back making him as nasty as possible. Now it’s biting them in the ass.

Braig joined Xehanort to wield a Keyblade. And he actually doesn’t fade away after his defeat like the others. I don’t think that was a coincidence. It’s probably because he became Norted as a human. He wasn’t a Nobody during his boss battle. 

I’m also 100% sure it wasn’t a coincidence that he just happened to “pretend” to commit suicide after his defeat. That was no doubt the original end planned for Braig ever since Days and BBS. He was always haunted by the things he did. I think he was especially haunted by what he did to Isa, which was why he always had such a bone to pick with Saïx. If he was a Nobody, then his suicide wouldn’t have even mattered because he’d just be recompleted afterwards, anyways. Sora and Riku’s reaction only made sense if he was fully human when he fell off that ledge.

I will never ever forgive KH3 for its treatment of Isa (and Lea, since Isa was a HUGE part of his character). I’m still heartbroken and angry over it. Isa was treated like a plot device—he only mattered because he brought Lea’s REAL best friends Roxas and Xion back. He wasn’t treated like he mattered as an individual character. He didn’t get a real backstory that showed his pain, how he became Norted or his close relationship with Lea. All this did was make me hate Roxas and Xion in KH3, even though I really liked them in 358/2 Days. It was just so unfair that they got ALL the spotlight at Isa’s expense.

It was always, always implied that Axel had a VERY sad backstory. He was NEVER EVER comic relief. Not at all. He was the most serious character. His canon backstory was a joke for how poorly it explains his behavior in Days and KH2. He was actually an apprentice all along? And suddenly the only thing that mattered to him was two kids that the story went out if its way to show never even came CLOSE to understanding him? 

Not his REAL best friend who became an organization member alongside him and who would understand his suffering? It was heavily implied they were both lab rats. I couldn’t believe Lea even blamed Isa for getting Norted. And apparently all Saïx had to do was admit he was jealous and things are instantly patched up between them? God, it was such a slap in the face as a fan. I felt personally insulted by Isa’s “redemption”.

Now, it was obvious that they tried to limit the amount of physical contact Lea showed Saïx after his defeat. And they also tried to limit the amount of genuine emotion they were allowed to show at all times. This happened on the clock tower, too. Lea wasn’t allowed to cry for his friend. And even when Saïx admitted he was jealous, he HAD to follow it up with something snarky. He wasn’t allowed to bond with Lea in a genuine manner. I noticed all of this right away. It made me laugh to see how stilted their interactions were.

Apparently Saïx was putting on an “act” the whole time because he was afraid to show his true feelings, I guess? They’re just gonna write off all of his past deeds that way, instead of him being ya know…Norted? Wow. And to top it all off, they tried to make Lea and Isa’s whole relationship revolve around some stupid random girl, which pissed me off so freaking much. It definitely came across like KH3 was extremely paranoid that they might seem gay. So they did everything possible to make their relationship lack genuine emotion and intimacy, destroying it in the process. The handling of their subplot went against all the most important themes of the series. It was utterly pathetic.

And yet Lea was still holding Saïx in his arms. And it was still pretty intimate from a physical perspective. In fact, Lea shows more intimacy with Saïx in this one single scene than Axel had with Roxas in all of their moments put together. Guess that’s why they had to throw in all the other stuff. To “balance out” more tender moments like this. 

The way Lea smiled at him is how I always imagined he would look once he finally rescued Isa. They said “See you” (”Mata na” in Japanese) to each other in a pretty intense and personal way. Especially in the Japanese version. Saïx said it so softly he almost whispered it to Lea. This was obviously something pertaining to their original backstory. 

Roxas said “Mata na” to Axel when he was going back to Sora in KH2FM. This made Axel cry. “Mata na” had a LOOOOT more meaning to Axel than it did to Roxas. You see, Roxas was saying it in a casual way, like most would say it. See you later. It was as simple as that. But I think “Mata na” was Lea and Isa’s way of saying they’d see each other again in the next life. Just more evidence that Axel was really crying because he wanted to see Isa and was remembering their promise. Roxas really couldn’t fill the void of Isa. That was the impression I got from that scene.

People probably would have been very accepting of Lea having strong feelings for Isa. But I think Square/Disney were terrified people would be grossed out if Axel had those same feelings for Saïx. KH3 just sent very conflicting messages due to this identity crisis. Lea was holding his arms out like he could still feel him there after he faded away. It looked VERY similar to when Xion faded away in Roxas’s arms. This demonstrated that Lea had extremely powerful feelings for Isa. The thing is, this was never properly SHOWN in the story. There was all of this implied intimacy between them, but it wasn’t able to be explored in-depth after BBSV2 got axed. And so, KH3 wasn’t allowed to show them being too close because there wasn’t enough time to properly differentiate Isa from Saïx. 

And this ruined their relationship. We saw almost nothing to understand why Lea would feel so attached to Saïx or why Isa changed so much since they were kids. All we saw was Saïx being evil and a very short scene of them as kids in BBS trying to sneak into the castle. The audience has little reason to care about this relationship or empathize with Lea’s affections for Isa. They didn’t get enough development. There was no way that Saïx was written as Axel’s best friend if THIS was how the resolution was going to be handled. Their story was incomplete. The way it was handled in KH3 was a complete and utter joke. 

#kingdom hearts #KH #KH3 #kh larxene #kh marluxia #kh luxord #kh saïx #kh isa #kh axel #kh lea

[stark-raving-strange]

Slight of hands

This is a fill for a prompt by the lovely Amethyst-Noir

from this post

Hope it fills the bill!

Read on AO3 here

The first time Tony notices it, he lets it go.  The inscrutable Doctor Strange must have been too distracted to tend to the more mundane things of daily living.

They had been on an inter dimensional mission for over a day.  Was it just a day?.  Maybe just very long day.  They had returned to the Sanctum exhausted and hungry.  Well at least Tony was hungry. Famished  totally!

When the Italian pasta-a-plenty take out order had finally arrived Tony had quickly spread it out on the table grabbed a plastic fork and tucked in with single minded purpose.

Stephen had looked at the food with a blank expression before  assuming a meditative state  legs crossed, hovering near the table and hands resting together in his lap, (in what  Tony was told was the  Dhyana Mudra position).  Tony could see that  those hands were shaking quite noticeably despite the supportive hand positioning.  Stephen didn’t seem to be concerned at all and Tony continued eating in the companionable silence.

Stephen never did eat, not while tony was there anyway.

Following that evening, Tony started to think about Stephen and how many times he had actually seen him eat something more complicated than a donut.     He realized that it was not often.  Almost never to be honest.

Yes, there had been the occasional slice of pizza on movie nights, and popcorn maybe but beyond that he had to really scrape for any memory of food making it into Stephen’s mouth while anyone was around. Now, in retrospect Tony could  see the obvious pattern.  He had never once seen Stephen with a fork or a spoon in his hands. Stephen’s hands, of course, were at the center of it all.  Those amazingly magically adept hands that could pull miracles from thin air. Those heartbreakingly damaged, fragile and  constantly shaking hands.   Tony chided himself for not having noticed sooner.

Tony liked to think that he had come to know Stephen pretty well over the last year.   They had been through some world saving shit situations as well as minor conflicts of varied degrees. Some situations even absurdly humorous on occasion.   They worked surprisingly well as a team, despite their obvious similarities in what others had termed  “their huge dueling narcissistic egos”. That was somewhat true but neither in all honesty were actual narcissists.  They were undeniably top notch brains and could be arrogant at times. Sure.  They had also both been through significant amounts of life changing trauma. Admittedly, they were both snarky bastards but yet  they both undeniably cared for others over themselves.  They also both  shared a mile wide stubborn streak as well as  the bone deep need to be seen as in control and competent. Tony liked to think he understood where Strange was coming from. So Tony tried to place himself in Stephen’s position and with sudden clarity he  saw the heart of the problem.

He knew that confronting Stephen on the issue would just cause the sorcerer to withdraw and that was unacceptable.  Tony had become increasingly fond of the good Doctor.   Fond and maybe something a bit stronger. Maybe a lot stronger.  He needed the man to be around. Period.  

Tony also needed to make sure Stephen was well and taken care of.  The sorcerer could not afford to miss meals. He was already lean enough. Tony constantly had the compelling urge to feed him up.  He would gladly do it.  The problem that remained was how to go about taking care of the wizard without being completely obvious about it. He doubted Stephen would accept an offer to let Tony spoon feed him.   Though the thought of that being allowed to do that  caused a place in Tony’s chest get quite warm and shivery..  

Tony shook it off for the moment.  Focus Stark, focus.  So how to make a man who is super self conscious about appearing inept let himself be assisted with a simple task like eating.  A proud man who is apparently hyper aware of the potential discomfort and possible embarrassment that might come from trying to eat food in the traditional utensil bearing ways, when others could see. Tony could not force Stephen to change his behavior but Tony could alter his own and level the playing field a bit..

The next group night at the Avengers compound included dinner.  Tony had arranged a surprise meal made up of multicultural food items that by tradition demanded they eaten by hand.  There was not an eating utensils in sight.  He announced the night as  F’* OFF night  (or the Fingers only Food Foray...some such foolery).  He thought it was pretty amusing.

“Ok heroes this is a communal sharing feast so hope everyone washed your hands first,” Tony pointed to Peter  who was caught in mid reach for the stack of spring rolls. “You know that includes you too Underoos.” Peter’s  gasped indignation “Dude I did wash them, gross!.”  caused chuckles around the table. Tony smirked and continued “And for the vegetarians the green plated items are for you and the rest are for us omnivores.”

Stephen had taken his usual seat and smiled a pleased little smile  at the large  number of  green plates surrounding him. Tony noticed and again that odd warm feeling in his chest bloomed and thrummed.

The whole meal was fun.  No one thought twice about the whole thing.  Tony watched Stephen all through the night trying to not be  too obvious.   Stephen seemed to hesitate at the start but Tony smiled inwardly as the man reached out with trembling hands to retrieve a  stuffed mushroom and, with little effort in managing the shaking, was able to  pop it into his mouth.

Throughout the meal he spied Stephen eating more than he had ever seen him eat before.  The general good mood around the table was lovely.  Toward the end of the meal his really bad attempts at careful spying were noticed and he found himself smiling back  at Stephen’s thoughtful look.

Tony nodded and raised an empanada to him before taking a healthy bite.  Strange also nodded and lifted a small slice of bruschetta in salute.

From that night on Tony made sure the compound’s fridge was stocked with foods acceptably eaten by hand.  

When getting take out, it always included a majority of foods that were traditionally finger foods.

Tony liked to think that Stephen’s face was a little less gaunt these days and that those cheekbones were a little less sharp. The thought of Stephen being more comfortable eating around him was extremely pleasant.  The thought of Stephen maybe  trusting him was more than pleasant.   The thought of Stephen was just pleasant all around. If he were being honest.

Stephen had noticed the change.  Of course he had.  He was a brilliant and observant man.  Tony could often see the questions hovering behind those silver blue eyes but nothing about the new eating routine had been brought up or addressed.

Until it was.

It had been a long week and Tony found himself again at the Sanctum with Strange eating takeout.  It was from his favorite Iberian restaurant.

Stephen sat across from him and looked at the different foods all but one dish did not require a utensil to eat.  He suddenly frowned and looked up at Tony.

“I do appreciate what you have been doing, and please don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t know whatcha talking about Houdini.”   Tony dipped his patata brava in the dipping sauce and took an exaggerated relishing bite.

Stephen sighed.  “Tony.  Just because my hands are shit at using forks and spoons doesn't mean that you have to give up on all non -finger foods.  I can deal with it,  I’m not a total pity case, I do manage to feed myself on a regular basis.“ There was no heat to Stephen’s words, only a quiet sad resignation.

“Hold on there right now!” Tony swallowed and looked up to meet Stephen’s gaze soberly.  “You, Doctor Stephen Vincent  Strange are definitely not a pity case or any foolish variation on that ridiculous notion.  I would never even joke about something like that.  You are one of the most powerful people I know if not the most powerful.  And I would hope that you know that  I have nothing but immense respect for you.”

Stephen straightened up with surprise at the sudden frank sincerity from the other man.

Tony gave Stephen a moment to let that sink in and then continued, “That being said, I think you are a bit of an idiot to feel embarrassed that your food might shake a bit while it on its way to your pie hole.” Tony gestured agitatedly at the table top.  “Damn it!  No one is judging you on your dining skills and you know what?  Fuck them if they are!   They would be the assholes then!”  

Stephen’s eyebrows raised at the force of that statement   “Tony-”

“No I'm serious Steph, you cannot neglect yourself out of some fear of looking weak in front of others, or at east you can’t and shouldn’t do that when it's just the two of us.”

“I don't-”

“No! Stop right there!  You cannot deny that you have gone hungry instead of eating in front of me.   I am saying it right now, clearly,  so there is no ambiguity.   I will not tolerate that behavior anymore.  I just can't.  I care about you Stephen, and  I trust you with my life.  I need you to  at least trust me with your fears of being seen as having a physical deficit.”   Tony took a deep breath trying to steady his suddenly volatile emotions.

Stephen now looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  If Tony hadn't been so worked up he might have laughed at the sight.

“I,”  Stephen started then seemed to try to gather his thoughts.  “I'm sorry Tony. You are right. I never meant to be that way especially toward you, please believe that.” he paused and sighed.   “My hands, or my loss of efficiency with them…”  He folded his hands on the tabletop. “ It’s complicated.”   He breathed out a huff of frustration.. “After the accident, It took me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that I was not ever  going to get them back, not they way it was before anyway.  Even when I had the means through magic to fix them, it was not going to happen and I knew it when I made the decision to continue to use magic instead.” “The frequent lack of control has been, yes, embarrassing.  I know that it is ridiculous and based in foolish pride but I have not been able to shake it.  Letting people see me struggle with a fork full of pata of all things  feels so humiliating.  I know it shouldn’t but it seems to be one of the last vestiges of my old ego that I have been unable to rise above.  I am sorry.  You have done nothing but try to make things more comfortable for me and I have been a jerk.’’

Tony reached slowly across the table and rested his hand upon Stephen's folded ones. They both were quiet each man focusing on the hands resting together.

“Look, I get it, I really do”.  Tony said quietly as he stroked Stephen’s   tremorous hands with his thumb, quietly noting the  feeling the raised scars and protrusions of the metal pins beneath the surface. Tony wished he could fix them.  “I just-, I want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid appearing ‘anything’ in front of me. I want the true you at all times.  The pretty and the not so pretty.” Tony smiled an almost sad smile.  “Honestly you know me, most days  I am a walking hot mess, and I absolutely do not fear that you will judge me for it. Or hold it against me.”  

Stephens head snapped up to look fiercely at tony. “I would never!”

“There it is, but I need to know this goes both ways.  I need to know that you think better of me than to think i would ever see you as somehow less than you are.’

Stephen moved one hand and brought it up to cover Tony’s and he cleared his throat suddenly tight with emotion.   “I do trust you tony.  I mean that without any reservation or hesitation.  I'm sorry if I made that a question or doubt for you.”

They sat there quietly for some time as they each seemed to need time to adjust to and acknowledge this sudden shift in their relationship.

Stephen was the first to break the silence and make a move. “ I think I would like to try some of that.”  he pointed to the one container of food that actually required a utensil for eating it.

Tony smiled sagely. ”Aah the   Zanahorias Aliñadas, marinated carrots,  fine choice Senor.”.       He pause slightly when a fork magically appeared in the container.   “Well there you go!  he handed it to Stephen.

Stephen smiled a small thank you and carefully held the container up and grasped the fork in his hand.  Tony casually ate another patata and spoke about admiringly of the place in Madrid that he loved to go for the real thing, as Stephen carefully and with concentration speared a carrot and brought it slowly and shakily but successfully  to his mouth.

He placed the container down as he chewed listening to Tony talk happily about tapas.

Two weeks later at 7:12 AM, Stephen stumbled through a portal  into Tony’s workshop.  He promptly collapsed in a heap the Cloak only prevented him not hitting the floor full force.

Tony was at his side in a flash lifting him up and carrying his limp form to  the nearby couch.

Stephen groaned and opened his eyes to see Tony.  “Hey” he said in a hoarse grunt.

“Hey you alright there?  What do you need?”  Tony glanced over his body, but saw no apparent injuries  “FRIDAY scan him what’s going on with our man here?”

“Already on it Boss,”  the AI responded and continued after a moment,.”Doctor Strange is stable, no notable injuries present, all functions appear in acceptable parameters but he is showing signs of physical exhaustion.  His blood sugar level is quite low and he is suffering from a moderate level dehydration.”

“Got it! Juice it is!”  Tony rushed to the fridge and poured a large mug of orange juice and made his way back to the sorcerer’s side in seconds. “Up you go magic man.” He helped the still groggy Stephen to sit up and positioned him to be supported by the arm of the couch.

“Ok, Stephen focus time, you need to drink this sweetheart!” Stephen looked up in surprise at the term of endearment and  smiled woozily in amusement.

“Oh shut up and drink!”   Tony rolled his eyes.  Then Tony faltered, suddenly unsure about how to present the cup, as Stephen’s hands were obviously shaking wildly with the poor state of his body. He hesitated both hands wrapped around the cup as he held it toward Stephen. Fortunately the decision was made for him. Stephen had reached out with both of his trembling hands and  grasped   Tony’s steady hands still around the cup and together they worked to stabilize and bring the cup to Stephen’s lips.

Tony was intent on making sure that the trembling hands were fully supported and that Stephen could drink easily

Tony was acutely aware of the privilege he was being granted.  And the level of trust and intimacy was sobering as well as elating.   They proceeded slowly and Stephen was able to finish the drink and tony took the mug and placed it aside.

He turned to meet Stephen’s eyes and they did not speak for a moment.

“Thank you,”   they both said in unison. But for different reasons.

Their exchanged smiles were radiant.

The unexpected but mutually initiated press of lips that followed,  was incandescent.

#ironstrange #fanfic #amethyst-noir #tumbler prompt #budding relationship

[viridian-dragoon]

Brandt Character Profile (UPDATED!)

  General Characteristics

Name: Brandt Vedyrson

Other Names: “Brandy” (a nickname used by friends to annoy him), Unknown Family Name, “Lizard” (derogatory term for Au Ra by Ishgardians), Shinjiro “Shinji” Ishida (pseudonym)

Titles: The Travelling Hunter, Black Dragon, Captain, Voidbuster/Sinrender. (Both of which he’s tried to kick off himself.)

  Personal Characteristics

Primary Objective: Brandt’s raison d'être, his reason for being, is to protect the innocent and powerless. To this end, he hunts those who would prey on the weak and set up an agency in Mor Dhona where they can come for help. Recently he was contacted by a mysterious figure who requested his presence at the Crystal Tower...

Secondary Objectives: Brandt seeks to make amends with the Dragons for wrongs he committed to them in the Dragonsong War after their recent armistice with Ishgard. Along the way, Brandt is keen to discover his true identity.

Secrets: As a youth, Brandt came into direct contact with the Eye of Nidhogg during a dragon raid. This caused him to become aetherically linked to the Black Wyrm and was the cause of him being inducted into the Dragoon Corps at an earlier age than most. He keeps this fact hidden from most unless he places a great deal of trust in them.

Quirks: While often serious, having a tenancy to fall into episodes of reflection, Brand can often act quite snarky and cocky. Additionally, Brandt tends to give people short nicknames after a while, a sign of friendship on his part though they usually consist of a shortening of their first name or a defining attribute.

  Mental Characteristics

Known Languages: Eorzean. Conversational Hingan and Xaelan. Rough knowledge of Doman.

Lures: Brandt seeks dangerous situations, usually ones he can solve with a cutting remark or a cut of his Trigger. He will also often be drawn to people who are willing to share their time and experiences with him.

Savvies: Due to being a highly trained Dragoon, Brandt is skilled in the art of physical combat and is generally quite Acrobatic for his stature. He has put extensive research into beings not of Hydaelyn, Voidsent and the like, and knows the ins and outs of most of their ilk.

Ineptities: Given his history, Brandt cannot understand the weight placed on family ties. He is also incapable of playing musical instruments, but appreciates the art all the same. Recently discovered to be an absolutely terrible shot.

Temperament: Phlegmatic

Hobbies: In the pursuit of self-betterment Brandt has taken up Fishing and Cooking. These combine with a love of sightseeing as a driving force to explore Hydaelyn.

  Philosophical Characteristics

Morality: Brandt usually believes that he is morally decent in most aspects, accepting of almost all viewpoints. However, he is not above committing criminal acts should he view them as just in the moment, unless at the detriment of another he sees as innocent, and has participated in shadier dealings in the past. He also believes that it is generally fine to indulge one’s self in their vices, I.E. drinking, gambling or use of narcotics.

Perception: Brandt is typically a realist, leaning more towards a pessimistic view of a situation’s potential outcomes. When given the glass example he would respond saying it was half empty, but that it can be refilled. He does seek to be a voice of calm in heated situations.

  Spiritual Characteristics

Religion: Brought up around belief of The Twelve, mainly Halone. Has recently embraced a belief in the Kami as well as Azim and Nhamaa.

Superstitions: Brandt generally believes that it is bad luck to speak ill of the recently departed or tamper with gravesites. Given his recent line of work, Brandt is certain of the paranormal world’s existence.

Virtues: Humility, Patience, Diligence.

Vices: Lust, Wrath, Despair.

  Supernatural Characteristics

Ability: As a former Dragoon, Brandt is highly acrobatic, able to leap great distances both vertically and horizontally. He has high aerial control and is able to discharge aether from his body to adjust his trajectory, a skill all Dragoons are taught.He is also able to brace his body against long falls, again in line with all dragoons. Having been “selected” by the Eye of Nidhogg, Brandt also holds the power of the azure dragoon. After a recent episode of influence he has decided to abandon his lance unless the circumstances call for it, opting instead to use an Ironworks-built Gunblade..

Strengths: Brandt is trained in the art of “Critical Combat”, the art of taking down opponents by striking vital points. Brandt is also moderately trained in various forms of swordplay, including as a Gladiator, Hingan Samurai and self-practised Dark Knight. Has some mild shooting ability, but opts instead to use a modified rifle if he has, slashing first and then pulling the trigger.

Weaknesses: As he is blind in one eye, Brandt often has difficulty telling distances accurately, usually taking long times to plan his jumps. Brandt is also unusually pain-tolerant, meaning he often fights on after sustaining heavy injuries and causing him numerous issues. His accuracy with ranged combat is also more or less nil.

Restrictions: Due to his somewhat unique circumstance as an non-ishgardian under influence from Nidhogg, Brandt is more susceptible to corruption by it. His emotions have to be kept in check at most times and after experiencing bouts of great stress, his control over it slips. In order to combat this, he has been given training in various self-control methods, including tutelage on the Darkside and the Inner Beast, giving him a much tighter grip on it.

  Likes and Dislikes

Likes: Rainy weather, home cooking (favourite food is Coerthan Casserole), Looking at beautiful scenery, Sake, Hingan cigars, gatherings organised by friends, Taunting.

Dislikes: Heavy snow, oppressive rulers, ridiculously sweet things, people who enforce their ideals on others.

  Apparel

Equipment: Brandt always makes sure to hold a concealed knife on his person, otherwise he is usually in possession of his personalised Gunblade.

Wardrobe: Brandt tends to dress in dark tones, most commonly a dull green and black. Stylistically he wears clothing recommended to him by peers leaning towards heavier, warmer clothing but has also taken to wearing traditional Doman clothing. When expecting serious combat situations he will don armour, including that usually worn by Temple Knights.

  Social Characteristics

Emotional Stability: Cocky. Due to his early life and training in Ishgard, Brandt is otherwise characteristically stoic. It takes lots to bring him out of his shell, however he is very quick to upset.

Humor: Brandt’s tone of humor is fairly dark, but enjoys most forms of comedy. He cannot abide by speaking ill of the recently deceased however.

Status: Brandt generally tries to keep a low profile in Coerthas as he is considered a deserter by the Holy See’s old regime. Outside of Coerthan jurisdiction, Brandt is an honorary first lieutenant for the Maelstrom due to services rendered and is well known in Othard as a roaming hunter.

  School

Education: Brandt was taught to the base standards of education in Ishgard, including literacy and a decent understanding of mathematics. In addition he was given rudimentary lessons in cartography and tracking.

School: Brandt was home-schooled by Ser Ompagne, and given further training in the Ishgardian barracks.

Study Habits: Brandt will often only study while motivated to do so, such as after finding important information or when with a study partner.

Learning Type: Learns best via experience. Teaching him new ways to control his aether takes a heavy amount of effort.

  Interpersonal Connections

Allies: The Bumble Braves (de facto leader), The Stray Sheep (former member)

Enemies: No true enemies to date. Carries much disdain for the corrupt Ishgardian clergy. Makes effort to avoid dragons due to actions during the Dragonsong War.

Friends: The Kimura Siblings, Pixhie Neva, Chibisuke Neva, Daedari Arulaq, Naevia Sorel, Kaito Ninomiya, Iry Valbe, Sidurgu Orl, Yuki-chan, Kikyo Mihata, Khagarel Kha, Shur Kha, Oriana Daethal

Heroes: Estinien Wyrmblood, Ser Ompagne

Pets: None for right now.

Rivals: Nathan Nuhn, Sidurgu Orl, Kuro Solaire

  Physical Characteristics

Height: 84.6in (215cm)

Weight: 273lbs (124kg)

Species: Au Ra (Xaela)

Skin Color: Dark Blue-Grey

Hair Color: Green

Hair Length: Varies, tends to keep it mid-length..

Eye Color: Red

Tail Length: 45cm

Tail Color: Black

Scars: Faint scarring on left eye. Various marks across body.

Tattoos and Piercings: None as of yet. Contemplating some traditional Xaelan designs.

  Health and Fitness

Addictions: Heavy social drinker, smoker. When intimate situations, he becomes quite intoxicated by a lustful disposition.

Handicaps: Monocular vision (left-eye blind).

  Sexual Characteristics

Gender: Male

Orientation: Straight

Significant Other: Available (not really looking)

#traits #Brandt Vedyrson #male au ra xaela #Dragoon #gunbreaker #ffxiv rp #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv lich

[handlingthis-megara-blog]

Megara Tilusi Gonzalez Egan – Character Sheet

i'm bad at love / but you can't blame me for tryin' /you know i'd be lyin' sayin' / you were the one / that could finally fix me / lookin' at my history / i'm bad at love / oh, you know, you know, you know, you know / i'm bad at love / i'm bad at love

i know that you're afraid / i’m gonna walk away / each time the feeling fades / each time the feeling fades / i know that you're afraid / i'm gonna walk away / each time the feeling fades

Archetype — The Adventurer Birthday — November 1, 1985 Zodiac Sign — Scorpio sun, Sagittarius rising, Gemini moon MBTI — ENTP Enneagram — 5: the Investigator Temperament — Melancholic Hogwarts House — Ravendor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Neutral Primary Vice — Greed Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Margaret Gonzalez Egan Father — Ahsan Egan (nee Haroun) Mother’s Occupation — Abandoned Meg, so who gives a fuck, right? (She’s a police officer, ex-military, random hc: she works with Copper, bc I always make everyone from Cork.) Father’s Occupation — Writer/stay at home dad. Family Finances — Not great, not terrible. Birth Order — Only child. Brothers —  None. Sisters — None. Other Close Family — None, her father doesn’t talk to his family in India and her mother’s family was never in the picture. Best Friend — None. Other Friends — None. Enemies — Ninsun, but she also sorta likes her? It’s fucked up. Her ex--Canis Greenleaf. Pets — None, though Ninsun takes the form of a sandy colored Persian cat. Home Life During Childhood — It started out pretty good, when she was five, they moved to Iraq because of her mom’s work. (She was a technician for the military, high ranking, she wasn’t out in the field.) They moved back to Ireland when Meg was ten. Her mom left abruptly when she was thirteen. She found out later that her parents had been fighting for a while and it wasn’t as abrupt as she thought. Still, her mom didn’t even say goodbye to her or anything, so that sucked. She rebelled as a young teen, smoked, did (minor) drugs, etc, etc. Had a boyfriend at the age 13. Once she got into secondary, she settled down a bit because she was actually being challenged in school and really enjoyed herself. Town or City Name(s) — Cork, Ireland -- Baghdad, Iraq -- Cork, Ireland What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere, always looked like a tornado had blown through. Oscillated between girly and punk. Any Sports or Clubs — Book club, chess club, football Favorite Toy or Game — Crosswords. Also Clue. Schooling — Went to public schools and military schools, got her undergrad at Dublin, masters at Oxford, PhD at Cambridge and then La Sorbonne. Favorite Subject — History Popular or Loner — Loner, but had a loyal group. Important Experiences or Events — Her mother leaving/getting accepted to school/living in Saudi/her experience with her ex Nationality — Irish Culture — an Irish/Indian/Middle Eastern hybrid Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, but doesn’t exactly have a religion, much to her father’s dismay.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Summer Bishil Complexion — Golden/brown Hair Colour — Dark brown   Eye Colour — Brown Height — 5’3 Build — short but kind of sporty/curvy Tattoos — probably one or two Piercings — ears, had a septum when she was younger, has a nose piercing. Common Hairstyle — usually down or in a high pony, occasionally a braid. Clothing Style — a little femme punk is probably the best way to describe it. Leather jacket, dark wash jeans, boots. Mannerisms — purses her lips a lot, can talk animatedly with her hands and body when she gets passionate about something, but tends to be rather still otherwise.   Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — not really? Travel always makes her a little sick though. Physical Ailments — well sometimes her eye sees into the underworld which can give her mad vertigo lol Neurological Conditions — none Allergies —  none Grooming Habits — loves a good groom; treats herself to baths n face masks n such all the time Sleeping Habits — not so great these days, underworld nightmares, am I right? Eating Habits — good, she doesn’t eat beef, loves a good salad, a good curry, lots of protein and good for you food. Exercise Habits —  tries to exercise regularly in a lowkey way, though she has gotten a little worse in the last few months. Emotional Stability — hot temper but tries to control it behind an air of indifference. Body Temperature — runs a little cold, especially these days Sociability — used to be much more extroverted than she is now. Extroversion is her natural setting. Addictions — knowledge. Drug Use — in secondary Alcohol Use — frequent

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — abrasive, snarky, untrusting Good Habits — loyal af, self care af Best Characteristic — loyalty and being like a dog w a bone when faced with a problem. Worst Characteristic — not letting anyone in Worst Memory — finding Canis cheating Best Memory — going on her first dig! Proud of — her degree Embarrassed by — her feelings lol Driving Style — a lil reckless Strong Points — fierce, loyal, smart, a bad bitch Temperament — easy and quick to anger, always bitter Attitude — needs an adjustment Weakness — her heart and thirst for knowledge Fears — becoming invisible (not successful in her career, with no friends.) Phobias — none Secrets — so many Regrets — Canis. Feels Vulnerable When — she feels emotions for someone Pet Peeves — so many things but mansplaining is the original sin Conflicts — trust v preservation Motivation — being successful af Short Term Goals and Hopes — publish a book Long Term Goals and Hopes — be the best known in her field Sexuality — bisexual Day or Night Person — night Introvert or Extrovert — introverted extrovert Optimist or Pessimist — pessimist af

Likes and Styles:

Movies — Indiana Jones, The Mummy Movies--the classic archaeological films, of course. Also into horror movies and slashers, to the concern of her parents. Though, she also had a soft spot for certain romances: Titanic and Moulin Rouge. Her absolute favorite is Big Fish. Good luck prying that out of her. Books — loves books. Prefers nonfiction but can get into a good fiction. Magazines — none Foods — Indian food. The thing she always missed being away from home was her dad’s cooking. Drinks — Big water drinker. A water with a little lemon is her go to. Also, vodka with a little lemon. She’s not picky. Especially these days. What? She can hold her alcohol. Animals — Owls, or púcaí, which is an Irish creature that was always benevolent to Meg, since she was born on Puca day. Sports — loves a good game of football  Social Issues — women’s rights, anything discriminatory she’s fiercely against Favorite Saying — some old middle eastern proverb probably Color — purples and pinks, they’re soft, lovely colors. She doesn’t wear them very often, but they’re definitely her favorites. She has like purple binders and a purple phone case, stuff like that, where you can definitely pick up on her favorite. Though, her favorite shade is probably a magenta kind of color, as that is what the “purple” of the ancient world would look like. She also is a big fan of turquoise and owns a lot of turquoise jewelry, both because she likes it and also because it has protective powers. Clothing — loves her leather jacket, wears lots of boots and darker colors. Jewelry — usually can be seen wearing a decent amount of jewelry. Games — clue is her fave, also likes word games and puzzle games, etc. Music — Dad rock. Loves KISS, Bruce Springsteen, Pearl Jam, The National, Counting Crows. Classics like Queen and the Beatles, etc. She also loves some good girl groups and artists. Definitely a fan of Florence and Beyonce, Elle King, Ginny Wigmore, Aretha Franklin, Christina Aguilera--I could keep going. She’s an avid music-consumer. Definitely that person that hung posters on their wall and was obsessed with certain band members and groups.  Greatest Want — to be the very best, like no one ever was Greatest Need — to learn to trust in her heart

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Castle Suites Household furnishings — modern n chic, tho also lots of books Favorite Possession — probably her books Most Cherished Possession — the recipe book her dad gave her when she moved out the first time. Married Before — nope, was secretly engaged though Significant Other Before — a few dates here or there but she was always focused on her studies Children — god no Relationship with Family — she’s a daddy’s girl for sure, but they’ve been distant since the Ifrit. Car — none, she can drive tho Career — archaeologist/professor Dream Career — exactly what she’s doing Dream Life — exactly her life minus the huge betrayal and the Ifrit. Though, the Ifrit has its perks. Love Life — no. Talents or Skills — has access to pretty unlimited knowledge thanks to the Ifrit, but she’s hella smart on her own. Knows several languages, also really sharp reflexes. Intelligence Level — high Finances — stable

#about #inspiration #character sheet #my BABE #man i'm so ready

[clairekatswritingcorner]

The Cost of Deviancy

Word Count: 5,141

Summary: Connor’s path to deviancy isn’t a straightforward one, and his budding feelings for a certain human girl aren’t really helping.

*Author’s Note*: A commission for @queenieships! I know a while ago every was into DBH, is everyone still into it? Anyway, she wanted a really bittersweet scenario with a satisfying ending for her boy and her self insert, you can read the extent of her original scenario here. It’s really good so I’d recommend checking it out if you read this fic and like it. I hope you enjoy!

It felt like his life was spiraling out of control, and in a way, it was. Since he’d embraced his role in the field, his perspective had been altered entirely. And that was something he’d never anticipated happening. Hell, he hadn’t anticipated over half of the things he’d experienced from this job, in the new places he visited, from the new people he met. He’d thought he had all the answers—that’s what he was designed to do, after all—but life was proving to be more complicated to understand than any amount of meaningless code programmed into his circuits could ever be. More than complicated, it was downright bizarre, otherworldly, teetering on the incomprehensible for him. But that couldn’t be right, since he was the Android that had been sent by Cyberlife. And Cyberlife didn’t produce bad Androids. It was impossible for him to be one.

But if he wasn’t becoming deviant, what was happening to him? Why was he having these thoughts, these feelings, fighting back against his failsafe protocols that were supposed to be impossible to override? He thought about asking Hank about it a few times, but always backed out at the last second. What would he think of having a deviant Android as a partner? It was their job, their mission to hunt down the growing number of rogue deviants and bring their spree of assaults throughout the city to an end. No more human lives could be lost. No more Androids could turn deviant. But Connor didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

Much like the other deviants running rampant in the city, seeming to grow more numerous with every breath, Connor didn’t know what was happening to him until the effects really started taking a toll. He became confused more often, questioned his mission, ideals, and directives at almost every turn, physically fought back against his programming. In small ways at first, ways that neither he nor Hank would have noticed. Perhaps that’s why it’d managed to progress this far, why there was no point in trying to stop it now. Maybe this was supposed to happen. He’d remained unaware just long enough for the permanency to set in. It scared him. And being able to admit that scared him even more.

He didn’t have a lot of time to sit around moping, lamenting the worrisome outcome he was heading towards. They’d just been sitting around the office, reevaluating some case files when the emergency sirens went off. It was the signal of a human life being threatened, a particularly critical situation. He and Hank headed out in a flash, unaware of the true significance of the situation they were about to face. With all the conflicted thoughts and feelings Connor’d been having lately, it certainly wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. More like a test, something that would enable him to confirm if the changes he’d experienced so far were truly irreversible; if they’d penetrated not only his circuits, but his psyche.

They pulled up outside their destination, just another skyscraper sitting in the heart of the Detroit metropolis. Connor was having uncomfortable flashbacks to the last time he was sent to manage a situation like this…it hadn’t been pleasant for any of the parties involved, and with him facing such jarring internal conflict, he didn’t know if he could handle much more right now. But he didn’t have a choice, and he didn’t have time to try to explain his situation to Hank. Instead, he had to suck up the artificial emotions he wasn’t even supposed to be capable of feeling and prepare to tackle yet another nightmare.

And what a nightmare it was. Even more accurately named then he could have hoped for. This was the last thing he hoped for, one of his biggest fears, the last thing he could ever picture happening. But he was also an Android; he knew that this was always a possibility, ever since she’d gotten herself so closely entangled in their terrible business. She should have listened to both of them, to Hank and Connor, when they’d advised her to back off. Stay out of it. Go back to designing Androids like she was paid to do. It was a simple job, a very lucrative one, and one that she excelled at. Unfortunately, now it seemed her expertise had turned against her.

“What happened? How did this happen? What’s happening here?” Variations of the same question spewed from his mouth, rushed and a little frantic, a delivery he rarely displayed. Hank knew that he had the capability of expressing the whole spectrum of human emotion—he’d been exhibiting even more of that lately, and more frequently. Hank had a hunch about what it meant, what it was going to end up meaning, but he never brought it up. They had too many deviants causing chaos on their hands to add another one that wasn’t causing any trouble…yet, to the pile.

No one answered Connor’s question, which wasn’t a surprise. They were either too busy trying to figure out a strategy for rescue or giving him some sort of snarky response with their aversion to Androids tacked on the end. Connor wasn’t offended though; this was one area where his emotions hadn’t had a lot of experience. That was fine with him, and Hank stepped in to pose the same question to the first officer they came across that looked to be of a significant enough rank.       “WR400 model went berserk, apparently brought the hostage all the way up here just to stage this little scene. It’s erratic and unpredictable; we haven’t been given the go ahead to move in. It’s too risky with how violent this one’s acting. But we’re grasping at straws, running out of options for what we can do here to guarantee the hostage’s safety.”

“This is getting old,” Hank groaned, looking over any evidence or notes the officer had to offer. “Damn deviants taking out their frustrations on innocent civilians. Don’t they know if they want to get any real payback, they should be aiming for the big shots?”

“This isn’t just any random bystander, Lieutenant,” Connor corrected, having secured a more accurate scan of the situation the moment they walked through the door. “It appears we’ll have some apologizing to do for getting her wrapped up in this mess.”

“Her? What the hell are you talking about?” Hank was half listening as he tried to absorb as much information about the deviant as possible, but he turned in shock when Connor uttered his next words.

“It’s Queenie.”

“What?” Hank was flabbergasted to hear her name, and rightfully so. “What would she be doing on this side of town?”

Connor dug through his database. He hadn’t received any calls or texts, no indication that she would be going out anywhere tonight. This had been the worst night for it, apparently, and she’d ended up in precisely the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. Nothing could be done to avoid the situation now, it was already playing out, this wasn’t a reconstruction. He was facing the reality that the one person who meant the most to him, who was helping him realize that he might actually have a heart, was in lethal danger. They didn’t have time to waste, and Connor knew that better than anyone.

He didn’t bother to ask the cops any more questions; he knew they wouldn’t respond, and even if they did they probably wouldn’t give him what he wanted. What he needed. The critical pieces of information that were going to enable him to save Queenie’s life. For a moment he stood still, felt a tightness in his chest that definitely wasn’t the result of a hardware malfunction. It was visceral fear, concern, care…love? All tangled up into one circuit searing feeling that caught him so off guard he spaced out for a minute. Once he regained his faculties, he returned to his work with renewed, reinforced motivation.

“Where d’you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to complete the task I was given.”

His answer was simple, and Hank didn’t need anything else to understand what he meant. He did what he could to clear the cops that still weren’t sold on the idea out of the way, telling them about how Connor had successfully managed a hostage situation like this before with no casualties. Surprisingly enough, the details were almost exactly the same. A distraught Android cornered to the edge of a rooftop, threatening the life of an innocent human. Well, Connor thought she was innocent, and none of the words the Android said could change his mind. But he did understand why it had chosen her of all people, why it had made her its victim. Because in the midst of all the chaos, it told him.

As he stepped onto the rooftop, jarring flashbacks assaulted his mind. The noises of the city seemed to echo from between buildings. The nighttime dark only intensified the glare of the lights; their scattered placement almost made them look like fallen stars. The only star that mattered to him was straight ahead, bathed in the dim, atmospheric glow of the roof’s decorations. But it didn’t dull the radiance he saw the moment he laid eyes on her. A light that had to be protected, that he couldn’t possibly bear the thought of going out. She was a star he couldn’t let fall.  Why did things have to turn out this way…was this just another cruel, cosmic punishment for his deviancy?

A blend of order and emotion scrambled his circuits; it probably would have been more accurate to call what he was experiencing a mind, but Connor wasn’t in the mood to deal with that right now. There wasn’t much of a breeze, which was a little reassuring, since the Android and Queenie were teetering so close to the edge. Connor recognized the sound of both news and police choppers moving in. It was an unpleasant whirring that brought a feeling of claustrophobia with it. The Android couldn’t escape into the sky in the first place, but the illusion of being cornered was only strengthened.

That wasn’t a good thing, and Queenie knew it. She could barely pull herself together enough to recognize the knight in shining armor that had seemingly materialized before her. There were plenty of times she had been grateful to see him, but this one probably surpassed them all. She wanted to call out to him, and even more. She wanted to run into his arms. She would be safe there; she had been on every other occasion. Be it at a passive crime scene or in the middle of an active criminal encounter, when Connor was there he always had her back. And when she was in his arms, there wasn’t anything about him that wasn’t human to her. She wanted to believe that because he was here, everything was going to be okay. She wanted to believe in him more than anything else. But reality is always good at dissolving juvenile illusions of hope.

“Lower your weapon and release the girl.” It was the standard request to start with. Nothing about this situation seemed very standard, even though he’d experienced an almost carbon copy of it not too long ago. This time, he wasn’t just doing his job—his heart, its existence something he couldn’t deny any longer, was invested now.

“Like hell I will! It’s all her fault, everything that’s happened to me is her fault! Her and every other goddamn human in this hellhole of a city!”

“What exactly is it that you think she’s done to you?” The longer they talked, the more time he had to move forward, to analyze his surroundings, to develop a more foolproof plan to ensure Queenie’s survival. They were standing at an unguarded ledge; the patio was sparsely decorated with expensive features and furniture. None of it would be of any use to him, there were no objects he could utilize. His eyes periodically flickered between Queenie’s and the Android’s. Every time he met Queenie’s eyes, she was always looking at him. She never looked away.

She was too consumed by her own fear to notice the doubt and desperation in his eyes, probably for the first time in his life. Queenie wanted to have enough faith in Connor for them both, and deep inside she really did trust him with her life. But she wanted to be able to entrust him with that life…and maybe even more. With something meaningful, something powerful, something intangible…with love. She couldn’t die without giving him that. If things fell through, and her love was the last thing she ever gave him, she supposed she could be satisfied with that. But she really didn’t want the first time she delivered such a sentiment to also be the last.

“She’s the bitch who put me in this mess, who designed me to have this shitty life!” the Android spat. The outburst made Queenie flinch. Her incensed captor held the knife closer to her throat, but it didn’t appear that it’d touched or pierced her skin yet. That was good, and Connor knew he needed to keep it that way. It was hard for him to know she’d only gotten into this mess because of her involvement with him, to hear her whimpers and cries and pleas to be saved. He would have given anything to be designed just a little stronger, a little faster, a little wittier. Preserving Queenie’s life was the only thing that mattered.

“She’s not the one who harmed you, or who mistreated you. She’s technically the one that gave you life, isn’t that something to be thankful for?”

He was stalling, Queenie could tell. Her hysteric rambling calmed just enough for her to realize he wasn’t actually looking for information, but for time, time that would allow him to figure out the real way to save her. Was there anything she could do to help him? Maybe staying quiet was the best thing, since he seemed to have some sort of formula he was following. If he got close enough she didn’t know if she would be able to resist running to him. But she still had a knife at her throat, a foot about to slide off the edge of this sickeningly tall structure, and the terror of the situation returning to cloud her mind.

“Gave me life? Don’t make me laugh.” The Android slid back just a little more, and Connor followed the movement with a lurch forward out of reflex. “She’s the one who decided what kind of life I would be doomed to live. The one who designed me to be nothing more than a walking talking sex doll, bound to serve anyone and everyone, no matter how awful or painful or terrifying. And all humans are like that. They only care about what we can do for them without giving a second thought to what they do to us. They’re monsters, every last one of them. Why should I be the one to give mercy? They never show us any mercy…”

A single tear slid down the Android’s cheek. Something must have happened to her partner that made her snap. He didn’t have the time to determine the exact details, but Connor knew enough to try to reason with her on her terms. At least, he thought he did. He had to.

“You were shown mercy back at the Eden Club,” he reminded her, arms raised to communicate he meant no harm.

“You were the one who showed us mercy then; another Android! Because only you can understand what it’s like. To humans we’re just novelties, playthings, fancy toys for them to beat and mock however they want! They give us the ability to feel, but we’re only allowed to feel a certain way. We’re only allowed to feel the way they want us to feel, to keep smiling and bow to their every whim even when they assault us, hurt us, break us!”

Queenie could barely make out the Android’s laments between her own trembling whimpers. She didn’t want to die, she didn’t want to die, she didn’t want to die! The rational part of her mind knew that Connor knew that, that anyone else observing the situation would know that, and that dwelling on it until it drove her to panic wasn’t helping. She knew it must have been frustrating, annoying, inconveniencing that she continued to react this way while Connor desperately tried to salvage the situation. But every time she thought about all he was doing for her, and how sorry she was to have drug him into this mess, and how stupid she for letting herself get into it in the first place, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by guilt and desperation coated her cheeks.

“They’ll make things worse for you if you don’t let that girl go!” he baited, although he wasn’t lying. Her eyes twitched just slightly. “If you don’t want to be treated like a play thing for humans anymore, then you can’t hurt one of them. You have to give them the benefit of understanding you want them to give us. Otherwise, you’re being just as bad as they are. They’ll never respect you if you take her life; they’ll only find ways to make yours a living Hell.”

It seemed like she was starting to relax her hold on her weapon and step away from the ledge, but the anger reignited in her eyes, and she held her stance with renewed conviction. “If it’s only going to get worse, what do I have to lose? I’ve already lost the only thing that ever mattered to me…if they’re going to dismantle me, or torture me, at least this way I’ll be able to say I took one of them with me!”

Not good. The situation was spiraling and so was Connor’s mind. He couldn’t let this go on, he had to find a way to get closer now, anything to distract her just long enough for him to pull Queenie away safely.

“Look, I know this is frightening for you. I understand that emotions can be frightening, especially when you feel them for the first time. I know you’re angry with how humans have treated you, but none of the bad things that have happened to you are this human’s fault. What happened to you the second you sold has nothing to do with her.” Queenie’s sobs tapered off as the Android regarded him with disgust. She lowered the knife a little, and he knew she was hearing his words. That was all he needed.

“Please. Let her go. I know how scary it is to feel emotions for the first time, how hard it hits you when you feel the fear of dying and being hurt or watching the same thing happen to the people you care about—I know how startling and painful it can be. Because right now, you’re threatening someone I really care about.”

He was being genuine, but at this point it was hard to tell. Emotions were running high, everyone was operating on a mixture of fear and worry. Queenie’s eyes shined with the twinkle of something better, something warmer, for a split second. He wished he could make her eyes shine like that all the time. But he couldn’t get distracted. He could daydream all he wanted when the one he daydreamed about was out of harm’s way.

“I know you and your partner were treated unjustly, and I know you did the best you could to save her. And before that, you did your best to give her a happy life. And you did. You were able to show her your love. To prove it, to feel what it truly felt like just once. Right now, you’re threatening someone I love. Part of being deviant is feeling empathy—losing the person you loved drove you to this, made you forget the way she made you feel, the way you still are. Don’t do this to that girl and don’t do this to me. Please, if you really understand what it means to love someone, you’ll let her go.”

And with that, the traumatic situation was over. Connor successfully retrieved Queenie, and the following moment the Android was disposed of. He supposed that was alright, since she didn’t have much to live for now, anyway. But the fallout from the event was enormous, earth shattering, life altering for the two most vulnerable parties involved. As soon as they were out of the building she pulled away from him. Connor supposed he could understand why she was avoiding him, although he didn’t really have a clue at all.

She’d come out without a scratch, although the psychological scars were sure to stay for a while, maybe forever. Despite the chaotic near-death ordeal she’d just endured, there was something more prominent on her mind. She’d confronted him about what he’d said, the feelings he’d confessed, a tiny fragment of her heart desperate for even a chance that his words truly meant something.

Instead of explaining the remaining nature of his feelings and confirming their validity, Connor shut them away. He could barely believe what he’d said, so how could he tell her that he meant it? He could barely interpret his feelings, so how could he possibly make them clear to her? No, he must be mistaken. He was an Android, he had a mission, a directive that didn’t require emotions—it didn’t involve becoming deviant. The effects of Connor and Queenie’s separation became so distracting they could barely work around it.

Hank got caught in the middle of the turmoil, and since he didn’t have much of a say about his involvement, he was along for the ride. He investigated both sides thoroughly, determining the extent of the damage. With better understanding in his arsenal, he hatched an idea that he hoped would at least kickstart the process of getting them back together. Initially they’d be displeased, but if it worked it would be worth it.

Unfortunately for Hank, it didn’t. In fact, it made things worse. Locking them together in the car while he dealt with another crime scene had seemed like the perfect opportunity. They had nowhere to go, nothing to do but talk to each other. But it only widened the gap between them when Hank’s impromptu rendezvous backfired. Conner let the weight of his deviancy affect him. Queenie wanted to know if his feelings were genuine, or if he was just saying such sweet things to ensure her safety. He felt there was no other option than to lie…to deny his feelings and crush hers for good. That’s exactly what he did, and after that neither of them knew if there was even anything to form a gap between them anymore. There was just…emptiness, blank space, a void. But what else could he have done?

He couldn’t submit to deviancy—even though he’d already changed—and he couldn’t allow her to suffer because of him again. Time passed as they both attempted to fix the shattered pieces of their hearts. Neither were successful. And it seemed Queenie had a propensity for getting herself involved in Android emergencies whether Connor was there or not.

Neither she nor Connor knew that today was the day that would change everything, for both Android kind and them. Connor found himself aboard the rusty vessel that had come to be known as the Android sanctuary, Jericho. His programmed objective was to quell the insurrection and dispose of the rebel leader.

Queenie wanted to help the revolution succeed, a human on the side of the Androids. She’d come across a traveling trio that had managed to free themselves from some truly ghastly situations, and Queenie took it upon herself to be one of their most important allies in successfully completing their journey north. Not only was she able to outfit them with even more convincing, camouflaging clothing, but her decision to travel with them made them look even less suspicious.

Now Queenie didn’t know if they were going to make it off this ship alive. Bombs and guns and a mixture of human and Android blood were everywhere. She’d managed to find a safe place to stow away until the action calmed down around them. Right now, it didn’t matter whose heart was pumping red or blue. Everyone was a target, and Queenie knew she had to be smart, and brave, and make sure she and her Android companions made it off this ticking time bomb alive. They would see the Canadian border come Hell or high water…and this place was turning into both.

Now Connor was the panicked, flustered one. Everything was falling apart both around and inside him. Too many sounds, too many bodies, too much interference. He was just another potential victim in this frenzy where no one stopped to question if you were human or Android. All that mattered was the threat you posed—on either side—and that you were disposed of accordingly. Surrounded by senseless slaughter, he felt his head start to devolve; the Android part, the programming that ensured his compliance and obedience in all matters. Now the empathic part, the arguably human part of him was taking over, and with all the external fighting he was expected to endure, he was tired of fighting himself.

Like a flipped switch, parting clouds, crumbling wall, he shed the chains of his mechanical servitude. He no longer belonged to anyone but himself, no longer thought for anyone but himself, and no longer acted for anyone but himself. It was hard to describe the freeing feeling that came with his acceptance, but he didn’t need to. He was going to do what he wanted and feel how he wanted. He’d already decided the first thing he wanted to fix, the first thing he would confront once he got off this boat.

He regained his focus and realized he’d spaced out in the middle of an empty hallway. It probably wasn’t going to stay that way for long, and he was lucky no one had found him caught up in his momentary state of internal anarchy. But there was real anarchy happening all around him, he could hear it in the footsteps that thundered down metal corridors, feel it in the vibrations of deployed weaponry that shook the entire ship with every blow, hear it in the anguished cries, ones of dying and mourning and those desperately clinging to life. He had to get out of here so he could see her. He had to get out of here so he could tell her his true feelings.

But fleeing wasn’t going to be so simple, and unbeknownst to him the person he wanted to see was already here. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and Queenie couldn’t find any sign of hope in the situation. After getting caught in the midst of a bloody skirmish, she, Kara, and Alice had continued running without Luther at his behest; they hoped the separation wasn’t permanent. Queenie and Kara took turns checking corners and scanning for any signs of movement or ambush. Everyone was only thinking about getting out of this alive, but if it weren’t for adrenaline Queenie didn’t know if she’d still be standing. She was terrified and tired, but she knew she couldn’t quit, and she and Kara held each other up for both their sakes, but mostly Alice’s.  

The good news was Luther had survived and was planning to reunite with them as soon as it was safe. He may have gained a few scratches and bruises, but they were all worth it as long as the others were safe. Connor happened to cross paths with the injured Android, and fate seemed to favor him for once. He found out where Queenie really was based on Luther’s description of his three companions and how he could get to her. He helped the exhausted Android make it into the arms of some other friendly escapees, reassuring him they would all reunite later. Connor would make sure of it.

If someone or something was in his way, he disposed of it or found a way around it, but he never stopped moving. He took a few hits here and there, but they were just simple grazes that did nothing but spatter his clothing with blue. He was firing on full cylinders, and he momentarily teamed up with a group of defending Androids—he didn’t realize they’d originally been his targets. He couldn’t spare a lot of time for gratitude and they parted ways as some of the group stayed behind to tend to the wounded.

Once again fate seemed to be favoring him, and Connor’s eyes fell upon the most important thing on this ship, maybe even in the world. The scenery around him faded, he wasn’t even sure all of his parts were working properly anymore, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive, she was safe, she was right in front of him and his body didn’t give him any time to think. He approached her in a few steps, strides wide and deliberate, and just as she registered his presence he made it impossible for her to react.

It wasn’t just the gunpowder and explosive debris that generated heat around them. Connor cradled Queenie’s face so softly, so tenderly, it was as if he was afraid she’d shatter at his touch. But his mouth was far from gentle, locking with hers in a passionate kiss that knocked the wind out of them both. Queenie couldn’t stop the stray tears that fell, spurred by a mixture of relief, love, and the threat of impending death still looming over them. They almost didn’t notice the voices trying to reach them.

“You can continue your love fest when we aren’t about to get blown up, c’mon!”

Their foreheads connected, and Queenie placed her hands over Connor’s. They met each other’s eyes, and Connor took the moment to say what he should have a long time ago.

“I love you, Queenie. With all the love I’ve ever felt. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

A few more tears ran down her face as she memorized his words. He always seemed to save her from hopelessness. She was the one that had always given him hope. Now, as long as they were together, nothing was hopeless, and as he kissed her one last time before resuming their departure, he realized she was the only one who could make him feel this human.

#self insert #selfinsert #self ship #selfship #oc x canon #self insert fic #self insert fanfiction #selfship fic #selfship fanfiction #my writing #claire writes #one shot #queenieships #commission

[not-close-to-straight]

“Buried” (Chapter Six)

The guys find out who is behind this whole mess, and get ahold of Bucky. They spend an entire day together hiking through the jungle and it's just as snarky as you think it will be. Little bit longer chapter this time, pushing 3300 words.  Let me know if you figure out what is the significance of Bucky/Steves code names/ numbers! Excited to hear what you guys think!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, drop a note in my ask box!

MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy :) ************************

Tony popped awake just as Steve was reaching out to shake him and there was an entirely too awkward moment where they just looked at each other with wide eyes.

Steve’s were just as blue as they had ever been, striking against his darker hair, and Tony thought for a moment that maybe he preferred it to the golden blonde of before. And the beard was a winner. He had always loved Steve’s smile and that clear skin but he wasn't complaining about the beard. Not at all.

Plus the beard sort of went with how big Steve had gotten, all broad shoulders and ridiculous pecs, and thighs that made Tony want to--

Oh shit I'm staring.

Steve's lips had curled in an amused smile as Tony was fairly obviously checking him out, and Tony finally broke the stare, looking down at Steve's out reached hand and then standing by himself, brushing the dirt as best as he could off his pants. “You let me sleep longer than ten minutes.” He said dryly, happy to pretend that he had not been ready to start drooling over the soldier.

Steve rolled his eyes before he could help himself. “Brilliant, Tony. Very observant.”

Tony bristled a little but tried to swallow down his annoyance “Why, though? We needed to get to the river.”

“Because you needed it.” Steve said honestly. “You look tired. More tired than you should for being on vacation. I just wanted to make sure you were as rested as you could be before… before we attempt whatever it is we are attempting.”

“Yes will, I did run for my life from a helicopter yesterday. I think I'm allowed to look tired, thank you.”

“More tired than that.” Steve lifted his pack. “I mean you look like you’ve been tired for months. When was the last time you slept? I could pack things in the bags under your eyes.”

“There’s that Rogers charm.” Tony snorted. “Thanks for the compliments. Let’s just go.”

“Not gonna tell me why you’re tired?”

“I feel like it's not your business.”

“That's fair.” Steve took a deep breath and pointed south. “River should be no more than a few clicks that way. I ended up leaving my GPS when I grabbed my pack so I'm not entirely sure about an exact distance. Good thing is, it's a giant river so we will definitely run right into it at some point, and can follow the current until we hit a village.”

“Lean on, fearless Captain.” Tony re-tied his boot and nodded. “Let's find some water.”

************************ ************************ It was a mostly quiet walk, both of them lost in their own thoughts, too preoccupied with watching their footing to attempt conversation. Steve was pushing them hard through the forest and Tony was keeping up as best as he could, determined not to complain at all, not even about the man sized blood-sucking mosquitos that seemed to think he was some sort of New York flavored buffet.

Man he hated South America.

Steve stopped abruptly about twenty minutes into their hike and dug around in his pack for a minute, finally tossing Tony a net and a bottle of heavy duty mosquito repellent.

“Thank you. I thought I packed pretty well, but apparently kamikaze level mosquito nets and bug spray didn't make the list.” Tony settled the net over his hat, and it dropped to his shoulders, providing at least something of a barrier between him and the bugs.

Steve smirked but didn't comment, just zipped the can back into his pack and kept right on going.

Tony could hear the river well before he could see it, and he was disappointed to see that the usual green-blue color was little more than a muddy brown, now that the rains had started hitting the region.

“Not how you remember?” Steve spoke for the first time in an hour. “You're all sour puss faced. Look like you ate a lemon. What did you think the river was going to look like?”

Well, it took just an astonishing amount of self control to not respond to the whole sour puss comment, but Tony took a deep breath and gritted his teeth to answer.

“I wasn't ever here when the weather changed. Flew out before the rains. I guess I knew it would be this color because of the weather but it's still just--- ugly.”

“Yeah, well it will be a lot prettier when there’s a helicopter setting down on it ready to get us the hell out of here.” Steve grabbed his satellite phone and started punching in numbers, holding it close to his ear as it started ringing.

“Identify.” A deep voice with a Brooklyn accent came across the line, and Tony perked up a little. What a voice. Why wasn't he stuck in the jungle with a man with a drawl like that?

“This is One-Seven-Seven-Six Charlie Alpha Papa. Identify.”

“Acknowledged Charlie Alpha Papa. This is One-Nine-Four-Four, Tango Whiskey Sierra.”

“Acknowledged. Need to order carry out-- main and a side. Three ks. N’awlins. No fireworks available.”

“Acknowledged. Carry out is disabled. Most perks cancelled. Storm in the area.”

“ETA?”

“Not available.”

“Acknowledged.”

“I'm glad you’re alright.” The deep voice softened and Tony really listened in then. “Was getting worried.”

“I'm fine. Don't worry your pretty head about it.” Steve teased and a low laugh came across the phone.

“ASAP, alright?”

“ASAP.” Steve agreed. “Charlie Alpha Papa out.”

Steve hung up, the smile dropping from his face and his free hand clenching into a fist. “Damn it. Damn it!”

“So.” Tony cleared his throat. “You uh, just ordered carry out, or what? N’awlins? What is that, Cajun food? Because I gotta say I don't love catfish.”

“What? No.” Steve shook his head. “No, I was asking for a chopper to come get us. Myself and a second person. Three klicks from base camp, heading south. I can't shoot a flare gun because it might attract attention so they will have to search for us.”

“Right. And N’awlins is south. That makes sense in some weird secret code way. No fireworks, no flare gun. So he said-- perks cancelled, storm in the area.” Tony thought for a minute. “So he doesn't have any access to your usual assets, like helicopters or vehicles and there's someone dangerous watching them? Maybe laying down fire?”

“Basically.” Steve looked impressed at how fast Tony had picked that up, but then his face fell. “But perks cancelled actually means men down. Which means that while we were under attack, Bucks team and the students in the city were attacked as well.”

“Which means this absolutely wasn't random.”

“And means that we are on our own.” Steve nodded, chewing at his lower lip. “No help coming, Tony. They are dealing with their own thing, so it's up to us to get to them and help.”

“Okay.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Okay okay. So what. So camp is… three days hike from the nearest village?”

“Yeah, if everything goes well. Three days. I have enough in my pack for just me for about a week, so we should be fine with the two of us, even though if it takes more than three days things might get a little dicey.”

“Oh I have stuff.” Tony interjected, and set his pack down to dig through it. “Um, I have six or seven MRE’s, a handful of protein bars, one of those straws that's a filtration system so we have drinking water… a few other things. A long sleeve shirt, change of pants. That sort of thing.”

“You packed...All of that?” Steve asked, raising an Tony shrugged.

“Well yeah. I mean, I was coming to South America, right? I wanted to be a little prepared. Or you know, more prepared than I was the first time I got dumped here.”

“It's wonderful.” Steve chuckled. “We might not have to spear fish for our dinner. Damn shame, I'd enjoy seeing you try to handle a spear.”

“What makes you think I can't handle a spear?” Tony retorted and Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Am I supposed to pretend like that wasn't a dick jo---”

“Shh!” Tony suddenly hissed and grabbed at Steve's wrist, dragging him back under the cover of the bushes.

“Tony. What are you doing?” Steve wanted to laugh at Tony's attempt at dragging him anywhere, seeing as he outweighed the brunette by a good seventy pounds, but then he heard it, the faint sound of a boat engine coming up the river.

“You heard that?” He asked in a hushed tone and Tony nodded.

“It's a Cummins VT-903M. Well, two of them. They come two to a boat. It's probably a retired Coast Guard boat, which makes it big for the river but maybe not too big depending on how far they are trying to go. I wonder how they got their hands on one, and why they thought it would be good here.”

“Wait, what?”

“The boats got a draft of over four feet.” Tony whispered. “I know the river gets down to twenty and thirty feet here but it gets shallow quick at the edges which means they can't come very close to shore. Plus it's long, pushing forty feet.”

“How do you--”

“Why don't you shut up for a few minutes? Unless you want them to find us?”

“Uh--” Steve opened his mouth to ask another question but decided against it as a boat came roaring around a bend in the river, its engine cutting down to an idle.

“They weren’t in the camp, so I'm sure that bastard Captain pulled some heroic bullshit and ran off into the woods.” One of the men’s voices, distinctly uncomfortably familiar, carried loud and clear over the water and Tony shot Steve an alarmed look.

Steve wasn't looking at him though, staring at the man on the water, his cheeks flushed with anger as he listened.

“We need Stark alive because he’s worth money, but you can just bring me Cap’s body. Nobody besides that Brooklyn boyfriend of his cares about him, so do us all a favor and put him out of his misery.”

Some quieter discussion that Tony and Steve couldn't catch, then the loud voice again. “I don't care if it takes a week! They have to stay near the river, and the nearest village is at least three days away by foot. Find them.”

“Look Rumlow, you aren't paying us enough to--”

“You're right. How about I kick your worthless ass out into the river and when you make it back to camp I'll write you a new check.”

Angry, muttered replies, but nothing loud enough to understand, then the boat roared back to full power and took off down the river.

Tony waited until the sound had faded away before finally breathing a deep sigh. “Well that… that sucks.”

“When I get my hands on that fucker Rumlow I am going to rip him apart piece by piece.” Steve growled, crashing out of the bush and to the edge of the river, so angry he was nearly shaking. “Who the fuck does he think he is? How the fuck could he---”

“So it was Brock.” Tony stated. “He knew I was coming, he organized the helicopter. He knew that it would be basically empty. That's why we didn't see his body at camp, right? You never said anything about seeing his body.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I just assumed he was in one of the other dorms that had been shot up. Too much of a hurry to search for him. I can't fucking believe---” he punched at a tree hard and Tony winced at the sound.

“Steve--”

“I've put my life on the line for that bastard. I've saved him more times than I can count. I've introduced him to friends and family and--”

“Steve--”

“And for him to want me dead? Not even gonna fight me? Just gonna put a bullet into my head and leave me to rot in this ugly--”

“STEVE!”

“What?!” Steve snarled and whirled around. “What, Tony? What do you want?”

“Steve. Focus. What are we going to do?” Tony leaned against the tree and folded his arms. “Alright? We are three days at least from the nearest village. We obviously can't stick to the river for guidance, which would be the fastest, because they are patrolling it. You don't have your GPS so we can't really set coordinates and go. What are we going to do?”

Tony being so calm helped reel Steve in, and he took several deep breaths. “Alright. Um. Same plan. We will just have to stay further from the river while still keeping it within hearing distance. It will add some more time, but we should be fine. We have to avoid the roads as well, so it will be all straight forest hiking for the next several days.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded. “Okay so let’s go.”

“Just like that?” Steve looked at him in surprise. “Just like that. A man hired to protect the camp site and someone I've served with for years decides to turn tail and try to kill us all, and is now hunting you and I up the river and what… you want to go for a hike?”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Tony pointed out. “What else is there to do? We can't sit here, right? We can't go back to camp. So I guess a hike it is.”

Steve couldn't argue with that logic, so he just shouldered his pack again, taking a long drink from his water bottle.

“I guess let’s go then. Take a few minutes to filter some water and fill our bottles and lets go.”

******************** ******************** “Thank you.” Steve said sometime later.

“For what?” Tony wiped the sweat from his forehead, pausing to take a sip of water before tucking his bottle back away.

“For calming me down by the river. I was ready to call Brock back and take him down myself but-- you being so calm helped. So thank you. I never thought… I mean, I wouldn't have ever pictured you being the calm one in this kind of scenario.”

“Yeah well, back when you knew me I probably wouldn't have been. But ten years changes lots of things.”

“Does it?” Steve glanced back at him, then down over him and by the time he met Tony's gaze again, those dark eyes were sparking with something interesting.

“Ten years changes some things.” Tony corrected.

“Hm.”

*********************** *********************** “So the boat thing?” Steve asked, readjusting the way the assault rifle lay over his chest when they stopped to take a drink. “Is that like the gun thing?”

“What do you mean?” Tony was breathing hard, but refusing to complain, liberally reapplying bug spray and readjusting the net over his hat.

“I mean, you knew what kind of engine it was just by hearing it, and knew what kind of boat it was? Is that like the gun thing or--”

“Oh. Maybe. I do kind of know a crazy amount about engines. But a boat was my latest project actually. I wanted a new boat and saw one in a scrap yard and she just needed some love and some work. So I rebuilt her. Same type of boat, old Coast Guard patrols and that sort of thing. Coast Guard has moved away from using them so you stumble across them every once in awhile. I've listened to that engine so many times I could probably identify it in my sleep.”

“So when you told me you liked to tinker in your garage… you meant you like to rebuild engines?”

“Sure.” Tony smiled a little at the impressed look on Steve's face. “Let's keep going.”

*********************** *********************** “You’re joking.” Tony sent Steve a disbelieving look. “I mean, you’re joking right?”

“Why would I be joking?” Steve frowned at him and Tony gestured towards the tent that was set up a few yards away. They had finally ran out of daylight and had set up a makeshift camp for the night and Steve had pulled a collapsed tent off of his pack and put it together in just a few minutes.

Tony was less than thrilled with Steve’s choice in sleeping accommodations.

“Why would I be joking?” Steve repeated and Tony's eyes almost bugged out.

“Mostly because that's a one man tent. And there are let me see-- one, oh yeah that's right- two of us? And you-- you are big enough to be two men all by yourself, so there’s that.”

“What's your point?” Steve looked genuinely perplexed. “We can both fit, it's not that big of a deal. Unless you want to sleep in a tree, jungle boy, I suggest you deal with it.”

“Oh my god.” Tony laughed and folded his arms. “What, is this like where you suggest sharing bodily warmth to survive or something? Because I can't think of any other reason to get in there with you.”

“Actually.” Steve glared at him, folding his arms as well. “This is where I remind you of that genius level IQ of yours, and wait for you to come to the obvious conclusion that the easiest, most comfortable, and lets face it-- safest-- way for us to get any sleep at all is in the tent together.”

“Right. Because snuggling saves lives.”

“Well, if you’re fine with sleeping on the ground with nothing to keep the rain and bugs off of you, be my guest.” Steve grunted. “But it's been a really long day and a pretty shitty one at that, what with finding out that one of my teammates basically planned to leave my body rotting somewhere in this fucking jungle and having to eat cold soup out of a can because we can't risk a fire yet. So by all means, Tony. Sleep outside. I'll see you in the morning.”

“So you have collapsable silicone pots for boiling water in that Mary Poppins bag of yours, but not a two man tent?” Tony said in an exasperated tone.

“I've probably got chloroform too, so maybe don't talk so much, huh?” Steve warned.

“You know.” Tony huffed. “If you were a gentleman you'd give me the tent and keep your bearded ass up to keep an eye out. You know, since I'm apparently helpless? You seem so shocked any time I do anything remotely helpful that you must think I'm a goddamn damsel in distress. Or the worthless female in an action movie. And she would get the tent, right?”

Steve bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, but I'm not a gentleman, I'm a mercenary remember? But I wouldn't mind treating you like a damsel in distress or a worthless female in an action movie, if you were so inclined. I might have something pretty for you to wear in my Mary Poppins bag.”

Tony stared at him then looked away. “You piss me off.”

“Yeah, well we seem to have a remarkable talent from going from normal conversations to insulting ones don't we?” Steve snarked right back. “Some other time, maybe let’s explore the whole damsel in distress thing but for right now--”

“What? Explore the what?” Tony yelped and Steve groaned, his patience gone.

“Get your ass in the tent, Tony!”

*****************************

@kloudbby @inkykloud @dogressa @hopeiseethegoodstuff @sopherfly @mariesbookblog @kagenightray @godlygeniusesofsoldiersarchers @bornwithgasolineheart @kokoburn @the-superhero-under-your-bed @susieeslei @subject-a5-byrn @petronellarose @chrys-1029 @polizwrites @sultrypickle @shadowedsoulforever @cheetacute @missingart10 @smolstarkrogers @ajanamyth @tstilcr @griseldaevn @coffee-and-cookies @sassassin256 @singingwithoutwords @midnight-rose1216 @deppfan16 @grayblooded @kiernaserea @liminy-lemony @bun-fun @ponybird12 @ims0vain @musicianriska @jasminespook @the-crazy-house @numbahoneviola @catpuppy1 @kaci1ynn @aurora-bet @triniannie82 @surefuckitanyhow

@julietheg @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @lazyamara @idkmantoomanyships @babypinkbunny @lilwitchybee @agenderraskel @phantom-cat43e @queen-purple-jay @briellasophia @loverofloki1974 @random-nicte @maddnesskeepsmesane @darkangelalex @sarcasmic-toast @itsagentromanoff @skye-wright @crystallized-iron @quietlyaz @thereaderandwriterwithin @hodginsismylife @ryuukoandmegami @warriorofbooks @groovyaviator @thelegendofjuice @blogmarinnakaciasuniverse @elegantcollectivefan @here-there-be-feels @throughhollowedeyes @anzu-rokku @blackhearted @queendophne @junostarkromanoff @contemporary-lover @i-am-irxnmxn @randomfandomweirdo @warfstache88 @fandoms-and-things-003 @stronglysarcasticsuperwoman @a-very-fluffy-bunny @holla-backgirl  @mrunaliniraman @redqueenblue @ibreathebooks-42 @youarenewformetoo @arbitermortis @cookiespandasandrandomthings @summerpipedream @pootie-and-the-snoots @larissaloki @sarusa15 @kirroyalefrost @ccrosey96 @sweetwaffles26 @ulnusilmukka

@lionheartwithnoking @gamemaker954 @myfriendstellmeimweird @llamamamma @musicgodess153622 @riren1827 @tv-rex @turtledisc @justyouraveragefandomthrash @sashmolly @endof-theline @itsallyd @valiantkittenwitch @iwannabebrilliant @miss-kitty-fantastico @iona-laia @sindotexe @lordhenrywotton1234 @darsita101 @cuelynn @ss2695 @bronwynhillside @giggling-breeze @wingedparadisedreamer @chaoskeks @hirik0 @kaleenjackson @elizapotato @dgirl207 @pigeons-official @spookytheoristpuppy @galax1ea @miramickey @misadventurousmongooses @ivap99 @cutedarkcreepy @catchingthefox @tydagoon @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @wintersfavechild @readallthethings @zuretha-metal @buckarooo @girlwithbluenails @happy-but-you-dont-know-it

@mr-yourki @rospergs @losttales33 @moonandstarsandcolors @tato398 @alyssimorior @hazelbeatsturtle @dayzor @goldskyworld @te-double-gz @goawayid @puddingpong @lifehappens-4242 @anamendob @thekristastrophe @llamaswithhatsthings @blaizeartist @chikairyuk @the-ice-goddess @goodtanaba @louloutttelea @teddycaca @monithesaint @adevilcalled @rosesnblueberries @forcedhabits @zuretha-metal @ihavemymomentsstill @marveltsums @superlepato @drarrydarling @tracingmemories13

#ncts fics #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #buried au

[tradewithjorgie-blog]

5. Trading for human beings: Emotional Intelligence & You!

New research on Behavioral finance takes shots at the classic Stoic trader mentality that’s been taught for years and years. The idea originally for traders was one of fire and forget. 

Robo-Trader

You were taught to be a robot, unfeeling, cold and calculating to be successful in trading. You would enter a trade, set limits for winning & losing, and then forget about it. If you win, you win. If you lose, you lose. No emotion involved. You’re either right or wrong. We’ve come to realize that emotional suppression is not what’s best. 

The most successful traders have an acute understanding of how they're feeling and are better equipped to know when to trade and when to sit out. To enjoy winning and understand the pain of losing without being severly affected by it requires strong Emotional Intelligence. 

Oh grow up *snarky face*

What people used to call maturity back in the day, is the idea of emotional understanding and control. Impulse control is concept close to it, and being able to put down that candy bar while you’re at the register paying for groceries is a good metaphor for trading.

You have a budget for what you considerable an acceptable losing amount, you study the charts, you come up with a strategy for reaction and you are ready to go. 

I can resist anything except temptation

Sunday night comes around, and you are prepared. You understand Sunday’s are fickle and you know not to trade until Monday-Tuesday when the week has had a chance to establish a rhythm. And then out of nowhere, EURUSD starts climbing, dropping the juiciest hotdog on a string you’ve for the month right in front of your face. It looks something like this:

It closed high Friday night, reaching the top red line, which to you is a significant resistance barrier. 

Your... guess (so as not to say prediction) as to what it might do, is fall back down and play around a little before continuing its climb. As soon as it breaks that red line and forms a full candle above it however you know it has enough momentum to rocket upwards, and that is way to enter with confidence. 

You’re excited, having a plan feels good. 

Problems, problems, problems...

Problem is, it starts happening right away. Three hours into the Sunday night open, it breaks through. As you can see, when the picture was taken it begins coming back down, but it’s broken through without a doubt. If you don’t hop on, you’re going to miss the train, and with a pair as volatile as this one has been, you can’t afford to lose that income. 

You’re not supposed to trade Sunday nights, but it’s literally doing what you said it would do. 

You’ve called it to a ‘T’, and not getting in at this point would be that time wasted. You’ll have to prepare a whole new strategy for this pair, AFTER it has given you enough clues. 

Getting enough clues for its next move could take all week. And if you’re not trading, you’re not making money.

It’s too good an opportunity not to take it. You set your limits, and dive in. Now if you weren’t so sure, you might bet a small amount in accordance with your plan of slowly building up your gains. 

Better safe than sorry

Its the safest way to do it, but tonight we start the week off with a bang. Think about it, if you waltz into Monday morning $1,000 ahead of your weekly goal, you have that much more money to play with. It’s for your own good really and to protect yourself about possible losses down the line this week. 

You raise your bet right before entering, and hit the buy button. Now this is happening real time, so I can’t say where it is going to go, but I’ve thought the same way a few times in the past two years and it has bitten me in the ass... Every... single... time...

E to the Q

There’s a reason you make a plan and then stick to it. If you don’t, that’s not very EQ of you. EQ stands for Emotional Quotient. It’s what’s replacing IQ as most valuable measure of mental ability. 

And for good reason. Being able to resist the temptation of dollar signs and stick with your plan is half of it, and then no matter what happens, learning from the outcome, is the second half. 

If you jump in impulsively and lose, all you’ve learned is that you shouldn’t do that. Your loss has given you no information on how to improve your plan. If you win... it’s even worse...

You have now reinforced the idea that it is ok to impulse trade. And that will charge interest on top of the ass-whooping it will give you later. 

The art of losing

Trading psychology is the reason trading isn’t easy. The material is simple; I am teaching my sister the mechanics of market structure and she’s 13 years old. Actually trading with self-control and diligence... That requires true mastery: mastery of the material and mastery of one’s own mind. 

“Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power.”

-Lao Tzu

Now let’s see how you did on the question from the last post. Did you guess what the market was going to do as it opened today?

We were here Friday at 5PM when the market closed:

What did you decide? Is the pair trending (climbing down the mountain), or is it consolidating (bouncing between levels)? Here is where it opened today at 5PM:

It looks like it’s following the green line, and will begin to bounce between the two red lines it finds itself in. That’s pretty cool, it’s following the first green line exactly! Should we enter? Hell no. 

Not enough price action has been created for us to have a solid understanding of how to react accordingly. Let’s give it a day and see what USDCAD has for us in the mean time.

Until next time traders, and remember, let the market come to you.

[joni69i717194-blog]

Social Media Promotions For The Telecommunications Field

Over recent few years, social media sites web sites have actually revolutionized the way humans associate with one another. In the 2015 Purchases Finest Practices Study from study principle MHI Worldwide, world-class providers ranked social media sites as one of the most efficient technique to identify key selection makers and brand-new company possibilities In the State of Social Selling in 2015, virtually 75 percent of companies that participated in availabling on social media disclosed a boost in purchases in 12 months. But it is actually additionally no great for your profile to be everything about just how excellent the product you are actually marketing is. Instead, you must intend to pack this along with impressive photos of folks exercising and getting involved in excellent form, along with intriguing sector news regarding really fascinating new items as well as along with practical suggestions as well as insight. Classes from individuals including those who are actually unaware, illiterate or possess little bit of recognition regarding social media marketing, individuals who know and reveals interest yet does not recognize exactly what and the best ways to do it as well as those that doubt its market value and also method and also don't trust its efficiency are actually the ones which overlook social media sites marketing. Being a leading social media getting in touch with company in India, the Social networking site optimization (SMO) initiative that our experts take on for our clients coming from India along with off other parts of the planet When 93% of your target market lives, eats and inhales social media sites, you can easily not afford not to have a committed social media sites technique that features social media sites resources, networking areas and also websites to produce a buzz about your item. If you cherished this article so you would like to get more info about yellow pages uk residential numbers (Discover More Here) i implore you to visit our site. YouTube's best results easily is PewDiePie, a Swede which publishes scarcely modified movies along with snarky narration commentary on the video games he participates in. We're talking about Facebook, and unless you have actually been actually living in a remote control town for the past handful of years (as well as then you have actually perhaps listened to rumblings) you unquestionably understand about this popular social networking site. Luckily along with existing technology and also the common globe of the world wide web participating in a much larger as well as much larger role in small business advertising, it has come to be much easier to track performance from channel activities and also step advertising. Social network isn't really concerning blasting your provider's sales sound on social, it's a two-way network where you possess the chance to enhance relationships along with your customers. To prosper at reaching out to as well as interacting your target audience, you have to keep and also look into abreast of the current advancements and innovations offered for social. Getting the absolute most out of the work you invested in social networks networks means edging them up along with the remainder from your marketing channels. When it pertains to social media sites, you want to do pair of traits: engage and get individuals involved. Our company explore the globe from Ecommerce, look at some various designs and methods, and discover ways to optimise our material and also stations to promise a high return on investment for our business. You will definitely use this feature if you want to send valuable tips in addition to advertisings to each one of your close friends instantly. Truthfully, the most significant factor you must aid your firm get associated with social networks marketing is actually the need to know as well as the moment to execute some very keynotes as well as tactics. Several social networks advertising web sites will certainly require different strategies, thus cultivate an one-of-a-kind tactic customized for each and every platform. Other social networks internet sites including Instagram, Quora, Foursquare, as well as Reddit may additionally be taken advantage of for social media outreach. One place that the effect has been actually recognizable in resides in beginning an Online marketing organisation. To address your second (terrific) question, they key is actually having bodies that incorporate your material procedure along with your advertising and marketing computerization operation. If you devote all your opportunity on the social Web directly advertising your services as well as items, folks will definitely stop listening closely. These art-world crowdcultures are actually the major reason why branded material has fallen short. YouTube Advertising and marketing - my presentation for among the regional gDays event right here in the Philippines, wherein I've shared a great deal of valuable as well as workable ideas on using YouTube as an effective advertising and marketing resource. Among the absolute most extremely addictive and well-liked internet 2.0 channels for on the internet individuals are actually the social media networks. This ensures that digital marketing employee can easily liaise straight along with our clients throughout the whole internet site layout or electronic marketing campaign process. The key is PR. Marketing makes you and your products known and also well considered to ensure any kind of advertising and marketing you carry out is that much more efficient. I suggest you conduct a physical exercise to gauge using making contacts internet sites within your organization as well as start acting upon creating a plan for utilization of social networking sites before its own late. This aspect of social networking sites advertising and marketing can easily obtain lots of website traffic to your web site together with building credibility one of people worldwide. Particularly, this could suggest that you share photos of families enjoying life together, or even pointers for household tasks. Given that these innovation citizens need interaction with their brand names, organisations must execute social networks advertising and marketing to get the attention from their very most significant customers. Dealing with social web pages could be an opportunity demanding job, without the aid of a sustaining social management tool. Past: Pinterest is the variety 1 social networks platform for online marketers that want to target girls. I am actually having the Self Development SMU training course at the moment as well as should state I had no suggestion how far reaching as well as powerful social media is actually. My hope is actually to utilize this along with a system marketing company I have actually simply come to be included along with. Aside from understanding the basic distinctions from social networking sites systems, the following significant thing is knowing the consumer base certainly there. Select around three subjects from passion, at that point allow Hootsuite locate information that's relevant to your target market. The proliferation from on the internet video recording makes this one from one of the most successful devices in your advertising toolbox. Popular social networks such as Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, as well as various other socials media could supply online marketers with a hard lot of just how large their reader is actually regardless a big reader might not always translate into a big sales amounts.